


You Found Me

by Amy_Stark117



Series: the lost and found [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Angst, Bullying, Drama, Drinking, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Family Issues, Fights, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, Heartbreak, I'll add more tags, I'm Bad At Summaries, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Jealousy, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Suicide, Mild Language, Mutual Pining, Pining, Romance, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Smut, Twins, Unrequited Love, but i just needed to write, it's not all doom and gloom i swear, kind of??, listen idk what i'm doing or what direction this is going, mentions of bullying
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:20:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 108,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24357967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amy_Stark117/pseuds/Amy_Stark117
Summary: Miya Atsumu had his life goals set - volleyball, fame, and success. Nothing could stand in his way.You threw all that out the window, simply by sitting next to him in class.Life is really funny like that, isn't it?
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Reader
Series: the lost and found [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1952776
Comments: 448
Kudos: 505





	1. the beginning

**Author's Note:**

> hello hello, this is my first contribution to the haikyuu fandom and i am SHOCKED it isnt for kuroo lol but anyway! i have no idea what i'm doing with this story but i needed to write it after watching normal people (which is a GREAT tv show btw and its irish too so woooo show support!) so i guess you could say this is heavily inspired by it. also! in this story the characters are slightly aged up because i don't feel comfortable writing underage stuff and the twins now have a little brother because CREATIVE LIBERTIES~ but yeah, i'm nervous posting this lol it's been a while since i wrote stuff too so if it looks or sounds weird please forgive me i don't have anyone who could help me. i tried including as many warnings in the tags as i could, if i miss anything PLEASE let me know so i can put them in! this story has mentions of bullying and suicide, kinda minor but can still be a shock to people so proceed with caution, i don't wanna upset anyone! without further ado please enjoy and let me know what you think if you can, it'll be very greatly appreciated.

Atsumu meets you on the opening day in first year of Inarizaki High School. 

So far, it had been a great day. He met loads of new people, shared stories of summer with those he knew already, and his place as a starter on the volleyball team was basically set as soon as he spoke to the coach. All in all, it looked to be a promising year for him, and that is exactly how he wanted it. Atsumu always gets what he wants.

Until he sat down in class and looked to the seatmate to his left. 

Before he could even introduce himself, he had already heard every kind of rumour a scrub could think up about you from the other students in class.

_“That girl’s kinda weird man, I mean look at her, it’s the first day of school and she barely put in any effort to look decent. Then again, I did hear she’s slumming it with some low-lives by the river.”_

_“She’s like a whore or something, I heard she slept with some girl’s dad from the richer estates and split up the whole family, how awful!”_

_“My friends sisters’ boyfriend once said he saw her drawing pentagrams in the alleyway near the pet shop, drew it with the blood of a rat and all! What a freak!”_

With every new rumour these idiots deem important enough to waste his time with, he just can’t help thinking how lame it was that they were wasting time creating the wildest stories about you, and not have the decency to even walk up and actually talk to you, get your side of these alleged stories. 

But he looks to his left to speak to you, and he finds himself pausing. You’re staring out the window, head resting against the pane, and he has the strangest thought. You look pretty, with the way the sun shines through wisps of your hair, how it adds a twinkle to your eye. Sure, there are girls in this class that others would think are drop dead gorgeous, Atsumu agrees. There’s the leggy blonde who gave him the most dazzling smile when she introduced herself, a perfectly manicured finger twirling a lock of her hair. The cute redhead with the glasses, quiet with her head stuck in a book, one of those nerdy types, if you are into that he supposes. She’s good looking too. But as he stares unashamedly, while you’re lost in thought looking at the flowers blooming on the bushes, he thinks yeah, there’s a certain kind of beauty to you (one that, for some reason, doesn’t leave his head for days after he sees you). You’re pretty. And you look sad. Sadder than someone your age should look, like a sort of old soul is in your body, weary with everything the world has to offer. (It makes his gut twist in a way he isn’t used to. Really, Atsumu? Getting sweet on a girl already? Lame.)

“Hey,” he says. Simple. To the point. “I’m Miya Atsumu.”

You had looked over in surprise, as if shocked someone had even acknowledged your presence, and once again he’s struck with the feeling annoyance, like _wow_ , did no one seriously talk to you yet? God, this class was full of losers.

“Hello,” you mumbled, fidgeting with the pen on your desk while your eyes flitted about the room, like you were looking for danger where there was none. You told him your name, and he repeated it in his head a few times. He doesn’t recognise it, so how someone so unsuspecting came to be the subject of so many rumours, he’ll never know. Still, he offers you a smile like he does with everyone else, and leaves it at that. 

He has more important things to worry about, like volleyball, like making it big and playing for Japan. He doesn’t have time for trivial nonsense. Besides, he doesn’t think he’ll be seeing much of you after today, doesn’t think you’d fit in with his friend group. Whatever, at least he can say he introduced himself to everyone in the class. Any thoughts of you will blow away like leaves in the wind, he thinks. 

Oh, how wrong he was.

___

Truthfully, he does not speak to you much throughout the year, or even in his second year. You remained his seatmate for both years, and he felt it was the polite thing to do for him to say hello every morning when he took his seat for class. You would say hello back, a kind smile tinged with a hint of sorrow, and he’d turn to his friends and pretend that the girls spewing nasty shit at you was none of his business. (He is utterly disgusted with himself, and knows he should do something, say something, but one word from one of the boys about how his reputation is the most important thing he should focus on when he wants to play for Japan so bad, and he shuts his mouth with a grimace. _You’re weak_ , his mind screams.)

As he had suspected, the rumours about you were complete bullshit. You didn’t live on the streets, turns out you lived 20 minutes away from him with your parents, and your appearance was fine, you weren’t _dirty_ or anything, Christ. You didn’t sleep with someone’s father, the girl who made that rumour had actually slept with her friends dad and blamed the first girl she saw (you, unfortunately) to save her own skin when questioned about it but that was a completely different can of worms he had no interest in opening, even if it did amuse him. And no, you didn’t practice Satanism in your spare time, that was just the local crackhead that the pet shop call the police on at least 2 times a week. 

So, it was just as he thought, you were a normal girl. A bit mundane, as he feels boring would be too harsh a word to use for someone he barely knows. He feels the people who created those sick rumours about you were even weirder than what they made you out to be, said as much to their faces and gave a smile that was a tad too sweet when they gawked at him, and went about his day. What a bunch of weirdos. 

But there was always one rumour that bothered him, one that left a dead weight in his stomach whenever he thought about it, when he looked at the dark circles under your eyes when you once again took more interest in the world outside the window than your lessons. 

_“Didn’t her sister jump off the roof at her old school? She was like her twin or something, I dunno. Kinda creepy if you ask me, scared a bunch of kids when she did it too. Everyone saw. That’s bad news.”_

It was an absolutely devastating story, and one he could never get the right answer to. He’d heard versions where your sister had been pushed off the roof, where she had threatened to shoot a teacher, all sorts of shit like that.

Well, they all ended the same. With your sister dead.

It gives him some answers, like how sorrowful you look all the time, and why people deem it their life mission to bully you for being the weird kid with a weird family, but he finds it leaves him with more questions than he has any business asking. 

It wasn’t until you walked into the gym with your arms full of exam results and looking like you’d rather be anywhere than here that he gets a definitive answer to the rumour, from Kita of all people.

He watched as you handed out the corrected papers to the players, apparently the teacher had grabbed you at the last second and asked you to bring them here because he was too lazy to do it himself. You look intimidated as all hell, even as they smile and try to make conversation with the apparent freak from Atsumu’s class. 

He sips idly at his drink as he observes the interaction when he feels Kita move up beside him, grabbing his own bottle from the bench and following his gaze to where you stand. He hums, and Atsumu looks at him curiously, but Kita keeps his gaze trained on you with a furrowed brow. 

“I remember her from middle school,” he says suddenly, and well isn’t _that_ interesting. 

“Is she as wild as people make her out to be?” Atsumu jokes, and Kita’s expression never changes. “You know, I heard she ran away to Paraguay once, to elope with some old rich guy who snuffed it before they tied the knot so she couldn’t get her money.”

Kita moves that stern look to Atsumu, and he hates it. But he keeps the smirk on his face, as he always does. “She did nothing of the sort,” Kita replies. The captains gaze swivels back to you, as you’re now handing out the last of the papers, looking ready to book it as fast as you can out of the gym.

“Is it true what they say, though? About her sister?” he almost hesitates in asking, but figures if anyone would give him a straight answer, it would be Kita. 

Kita looks like he’s hesitating, debating if he should tell the truth or keep quiet seeing as it’s none of his business, but ultimately relents with a muted sigh. 

“Yes. Her sister did jump off the roof. I’m not sure why. They were twins, like you and Osamu,” he pauses, and his gaze turns to one of pity, and Atsumu can’t ever remember seeing an expression like that on his face before, one of such melancholy. It’s enough to put unease in Atsumu’s veins, like freezing cold water was dumped on his head. He feels a dull pain in his heart for you. As much as he annoys him Atsumu doesn’t think he could ever live if something happened to Osamu. The whole story makes him sick to his stomach.

Atsumu thinks the conversation is over, and turns to distract himself with retying his laces in an effort to push you out of his mind when Kita speaks up again, so quietly that the blonde would have almost missed it if he wasn’t standing directly next to him.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard a person scream the way she did in the courtyard that day. Didn’t hear much from her after that.”

Kita leaves silently and returns to the court, where most of the other players have returned as well. Atsumu looks up to see you fiddle with an exam in your hand, eyes wandering through the gym before they land on him. You give him a small smile, pointing at his paper before putting it on the bench. Ah, that must be his paper. With one last smile, you give him a wave, one that he returns numbly, and he feels like his mouth is full of ash when thinks back on Kita’s words. Suddenly volleyball isn’t so appealing right now.

\---

Life takes an unexpected turn in the summer before his third year at Inarizaki High School.

Atsumu’s been working hard at volleyball, earning a name for himself at youth camps, and life looks set to go the way he wants. Playing for Japan, becoming a famous volleyball player, being the best setter in the country, along with the added extras of “money, cars and bitches”, as one of his classmates had so eloquently put…yeah. All that hard work seems to be paying off. About fuckin’ time.

When his mother mentions that a babysitter will be coming over on Saturday to look after his little brother he thinks whatever, kinda weird that his mother doesn’t trust him or Samu enough to look after their ten year old brother but it is what it is, this way he can spend more time practicing volleyball instead of looking after his sibling. Cool.

When Atsumu and his twin walk through the front door on Saturday evening, sweaty and sore after a long day of training and hoping his parents left some food for them to heat up, he half expected the babysitter to be some hot milf that would tuck him into bed like some wild porno where he could get down and dirty with an older woman. Hey, he was an 18-year-old guy, it wouldn’t have been his first rodeo, he has his needs too. Who cares if his mind ran rampant every once in a while?

So, colour him surprised when instead of lady with a huge rack and botox he found _you_ sitting on his couch, smiling gently at his little brother while he spoke animatedly about his stupid video game. 

He had actually done a double take, standing dumbly in the door frame with his eyes set on only you, eyebrows nearly reaching his hairline. His twin handled things a lot smoother, making his way over to where you were seated, flicking Yuta on his forehead to shut him up. He gives you a nod, and you look at him in surprise before introducing yourself.

“So you’re the babysitter, huh? I’m Osamu, nice to meet ya. Blondie over there is my brother, Atsumu. Once he stops letting the flies in his mouth I’m sure he’ll come over to say hello,” and with that he heads to the kitchen to raid the refrigerator. 

You had turned your head to where Atsumu still stood ( _move_ , lame-ass!), the shock on your face slowly slipping into something more neutral. 

“Hi, Atsumu,” you say, and he finally moves and makes his way slowly to the recliner chair next to the couch his brother and you have situated yourselves on. He flops into the seat and stretches his legs out, looking at you from the corner of his eye. He'd almost expect you to not remember his name, if not for the fact he was basically a star at school.

“Heya,” he greets. Yuta beams at him, whatever interest in his video game now suddenly gone now that his big brothers were home.

“Tsumu! Didja win a big game today?” he’s practically buzzing with giddiness, and Atsumu doesn’t have the energy to correct him and say it was only practice. You look at Atsumu with interest, and the attention oddly makes him fidget. 

“Sure did, kid,” he says, smirking when Yuta lets out a ‘woohoo!’ and starts regaling you with stories of all the big games Inarizaki ever had, and how his brothers were ‘so awesome’ and ‘the best players in the world!!’. _Of course_ , Atsumu lets it go to his big head. 

To your credit, you look genuinely interested in what Yuta is saying, even if his stories are a tad exaggerated, nodding earnestly when Yuta explains how Atsumu is gonna be the No.1 volleyball player in Japan someday. You return your gaze to the setter with a warm smile, leaving him positively breathless, and does he feel a _blush_ on his cheeks? 

“Wow, that sounds amazing,” you say quietly, and he knows you mean it. Somehow your words feel as though they carry more weight to them than others’ would. And then you surprise him even further. “I had actually seen one of your games before, I was curious to know what the big deal was.”

He never really expected you to watch one of his games, never really felt the need to seek you out in the crowd, so hearing this was a pleasant surprise. 

“And?” he questions when you don’t offer any more, and he can’t help but be cheeky. “Were you blown away by my skills?” 

You give a light laugh, and it stirs something deep in his stomach. 

“I was. I was impressed by the whole team, actually. Putting that much passion into your sport, to become the best, like Gods amongst men…”you trail off, flustered by your own words. Atsumu couldn’t care less, he wants you to keep talking. He’s enjoying the praise far too much. “I-It’s truly…spectacular. You’re very talented,” you smile, and he can feel heat touch the tips of his ears as his smirk grows.

“That silence thing you do is a bit cheesy, though.”

The smirk drops from his face faster than the ball from his serves, and it’s the icing on the cake when he hears Osamu cackling from the kitchen, moving to the doorway, mouth full of rice, _still laughing_. Atsumu hopes he chokes. At least Yuta seems hell bent on defending him. 

But he finds he doesn’t completely mind the comment, not with the way you stare at him with a impish grin on your pretty face. A feeling of warmth spreads throughout his chest. Huh. Strange. 

He wonders if he’s opened the lid to your box of mystery, or if he barely managed to open the lock. 

\---

Later that evening, when you had said your goodbyes to the family once his parents returned, they asked the twins if you were good at babysitting, because Yuta certainly liked you.

Osamu grunts out “she was fine, nothin’ crazy happened, she’s willing to put up with Yuta so she’s already better than the ones from before,” and moves his attention back to the movie on screen. His mother had looked at Atsumu then, expectant, and he shrugs.

“What he said,” is what he offers, and when his parents discuss looking at other potential babysitters, he blurts out “She was really gentle and patient with Yuta, too. She’d be good for him.” He doesn’t know why he said it, wouldn’t have really bothered if it were anyone else, but he feels a bizarre sense of relief when they decide to keep you on as the Yuta’s baby sitter. Better you than some old crone giving out when he puts his feet on the table. 

Little did Atsumu know that this random evening would be the beginning of a series of trouble and heartbreak for him.

 _Funny_ , isn’t it?


	2. the change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a lot longer than i had intended lol we also got to the smut a lot sooner that i originally thought! enjoy! feedback is very much appreciated!

“Why’d ya take up babysitting?”

It’s a sickeningly hot day. The radio stations and newscasters would not shut up about the oncoming heatwave for the past week and, well, here it was, and it’s _disgusting_. Volleyball practice was cancelled, and for once Atsumu is glad. He doesn’t think he could survive walking for longer than 10 minutes in what feels like the literal fires of Hell, let alone training for hours. Sitting inside the house seemed like the best option to escape the dry heat, but after a while of sitting in a room with fans pushing around nothing but hot air the stifling heat was too much to bear. Yuta would not stop complaining about being too hot, and Atsumu would kill him if it wasn’t seen as being hypocritical, because all Atsumu has done all day was moan and groan. Osamu wasn’t fairing any better, looking absolutely miserable with tendrils of his grey hair glued to his forehead.

You seemed to be the only person surviving (just barely), and when it seemed like everyone was just about ready to do their best impression of Spongebob Squarepants all dried up, you had the bright idea to walk to the local store to get a blow up pool for the garden. His automatic response was to tut and whine, but Yuta looked ecstatic at the idea and rushed to put on his shoes, and so with a collective set of sighs from the twins, they got up and acquiesced in going to the shop. One short trip, scorched backs, and 3 sets of burning lungs later (he should have listened to Osamu when he said to buy the pump but _damn it_ he wasn’t gonna admit shit) the pool was up and running and filled with refreshingly cold water from the hose.

Yuta was occupied with diving in and out of the pool like a weird dolphin, making Atsumu laugh every time he went down too fast and hurt himself. Osamu decided ice cream was an essential after hours in the pool, so like the saint he likes to think he is, he offered to brave the weather and head back down to the shop with the promise of every kind of frozen treat he could find. Their parents were gonna have a real treat finding the savings stash broken into.

You and Atsumu were left in relative peace, sitting side by side in the grass of the garden, legs stretched out in front of you as you sat watching Yuta while Atsumu opted for reclining, arm thrown over his face to escape the suns harsh rays. 

At this point you had been babysitting for a few weeks, and the littlest Miya adored you more than ever. You actually listened and interacted with him compared to the old babysitters who got fed up with his behaviour after a week, and for the troublesome child it was more than he could ever ask for. You were kind, patient, and offered to help whenever he needed it. For that, his parents adored you as well, even Osamu took a bit of a liking to you, and Osamu doesn’t really _care_ about this kind of stuff. Atsumu, well, he won’t deny that having you around makes for a nice change. You’re different to the people that usually surround him. How people in school could ever say the shit they did about you; he doesn’t think he’ll ever understand. Seeing more of you each week, getting to know you, it’s…nice.

(It’s _more_ than nice, but again, Atsumu has trouble admitting things he doesn’t necessarily want to.)

You don’t really reveal much about yourself, though. Not about your experience in school, any friends you have, your family and sister, nothing aside from basic things like TV shows you watch and books you read. And Atsumu feels strangely frustrated with the wall you have built around yourself. 

“The same reason most people who take up babysitting jobs do it for,” you snort, and Atsumu smirks lazily underneath his arm. “I need money.”

“To feed your outrageously expensive lifestyle?” Atsumu asks, taking pride in the laugh you offer in response.

“Not quite. I’m saving for college.”

You’ve piqued his interest. He lowers his arm to look at you properly, but you’re staring at Yuta, who’s currently testing out what types of things in the garden float in water. You have a soft look on your face, he’d go as far as to say it’s affection for the little worm messing up the garden. 

“What do you want to study?” 

A grimace appears on your face, toes crinkling in the grass beneath your feet.

“I don’t really know. I just..feel like I kind of have to go. Everyone kind of expects you to go to college now, you know?” He knows this all too well. Atsumu doesn’t have any particular interest in going to college, all he wants is to practice volleyball and play for national teams, but his parents keep bringing up the question of what he’s going to study in college, not _if_ he’s going to go to college.

“Yeah, I getcha,” he pauses, wondering what to say next. “There has to be something you like doing.”

You think for a moment, brows furrowing cutely. He’s about to say _don’t think too hard or you’ll hurt yourself_ when you finally speak up. 

“I like history, I suppose.”

“There ya go. Study that in college, then,” he replies, but it seems like it was the wrong thing to say. You frown, eyes dropping to your lap where your hands start picking at the edges of your shorts. When you don’t say anything, he sighs. 

“What’s wrong with studying history?” he yawns. 

“…I don’t really want to spend a portion of my life studying for something I’m not passionate about. It seems like a waste.”

His lips turn downward in thought. He moves to sit up, shoulder brushing against yours (when were you two sitting so closely?), and looks towards where both pairs of your feet rest near each other, his legs extending far longer than yours.

“Yeah, it is a waste. And that’s kinda stupid,” your brow twitches as he watches your reaction from the corner of his eye. “But it’s still a steppingstone, yeah? Isn’t college supposed s’posed to be about experimenting and stuff? Go study, work hard at your degree, and find out what it is you like doing in the meantime. Least you can say ya went, guide other little clueless ducklings away from college with yer font of wisdom, or whatever.”

Your head turns to stare at him, and he returns the gaze. Your eyes flit over his features, seemingly trying to find some double meaning to his words, some con he was trying to sell. Apparently finding none, you relax, shoulders dropping and letting out a sigh. You nod at his weird logic, and he beams, positively chuffed at being right, in some fashion.

“I suppose what you’re saying kind of makes sense.”

He lies back down on the grass, this time on his stomach with his head resting on his arms. He distantly hears the front door open and close. Finally, Samu better have bought the ice cream sandwich he wanted. The blonde closes his eyes and offers one last piece of advice for the day. That’s enough good deeds from him for the day. 

“Just think about it, yeah?”

“Trust me, thinking is all I ever do.”

He doesn’t have enough energy in him to think about what your words could possibly mean.

\---

Something unusual happens some random night when all four of you were watching a movie in the living room, Yuta’s choice, of course. His parents were out later than usual, and with nothing else to do so late Osamu suggested watching a movie because there was no way in hell Yuta was going to bed earlier than he had to since mom and dad weren’t home. 

In true Yuta fashion, he picks out some lame cheap Disney movie with way too many musical numbers for Astumu’s liking. Osamu’s head was stuck in his phone as soon as the first song began, already had enough, and even you look like you’re one dramatic scene about friendship away from groaning out loud. The things they do for Yuta.

Half an hour in and Atsumu uses the excuse of making food as a desperate attempt to just have 5 minutes away from the crying heroine on screen. 

“Oh, I want a snack too!” Yuta exclaims, and obviously Samu has to pipe in his order too, so Atsumu flips him the bird behind Yuta’s back and grumbles his way to the kitchen. 

“I’ll help you,” you get up from the couch, and his thick brows inch their way upwards to his hair, before dropping again. You’re just helping with food like a good babysitter. Nothing to read in between the lines about. 

He pulls the makings of a sandwich out from the refrigerator while you raid the cupboards for plates and bowls to hold snacks in, already well acquainted with the household. 

“You don’t have to help you know, I can get Yuta’s stuff and Osamu can starve,” he mumbles. The corner of his lips tips up when you chuckle, and he feels a bit lighter as he moves.

“It’s ok, I like helping when I can,” is your simple response. Its enough to bring a full smile to his face, brown eyes moving to where you’re struggling to open up a bag of candy. He continues through the motions for making the most amazing sandwich he can possibly make, hands spreading and slicing automatically.

“I’m surprised you’re still saying that after spending time with this fam- ow, fuck! Shit, shit, FUCK!” 

You turned around in shock, letting out a yelp at a very agitated Miya Atsumu cradling his hand to his chest. He’s still cursing and whining, even when his brothers make their way through the door to see what the commotion was about. 

“What the hell happened?” questions Osamu, Yuta’s worried eyes bugging out of his tiny skull. Atsumu lifts his battle wound to reveal…a slit in his finger, one that’s bleeding only mildly. Well, for the pain of it he’d thought he chopped his whole fucking hand off. Osamu’s faintly concerned face returns to its usual deadpan state, and Atsumu scowls. “Seriously? That’s it? That’s fuckin’ lame, Tsumu.”

“Hey, fuck you, big head!”

Yuta looks distraught, head whipping between the twins arguing. “Hey, language! I’m telling mom!”

Osamu flicks him on the forehead, making his way back to the living room. “Shut up, Tata. C’mon, let the big baby cry a river on his own.”

Yuta sends one last look at Atsumu before the blonde waves him off, where he goes scurrying back to the movie. Blood runs thicker than water, eh? 

He turns around to see you’ve found some first aid stuff out of nowhere (he didn’t even know they were there, to be honest), and your turning on the tap and instructing him to run his cut under the water while you search through the bag for plasters. The cold water provides some relief, and he’s about to ask you to throw him a plaster when with careful and delicate hands you take hold of his, inspecting the cut closely. His breath catches in his chest.

“Hmm, nothing serious, thankfully,” you murmur, almost cradling his handle to your chest as you get a better look at the damage. “But it will be annoying to deal with if it gets infected.” With that said you take a disinfectant wipe and begin cleaning his cut, apologising softly when he gives a hiss.

“I can do it myself,” he mumbles but makes no move to stop your treatment. You gift him with a small smile, and it makes something flutter in his tummy.

“It’s fine, I like helping,” you repeat your words from earlier, and turn back to the task of cleaning his finger.

Your movements are so gentle and caring, and Atsumu feels wholly undeserving of it. His heart feels like the school bands drums at one of his games, beating so hard and fast, and well, it’s definitely strange, because he hasn’t felt this way with someone in a while. There have been girls who throw themselves at him, and he’s spent his fair share of time with them learning all he can about love, lust and whatever the hell his body likes, but he can’t seem to recall any girl that makes him feel like his heart is about to burst out of his fucking chest simply by playing nurse. Seriously, this cannot be medically right. 

Meticulous and nimble fingers work to remove the plaster from its packaging, and with a touch as light as a feather, you wrap it around his finger, so carefully as if you’re afraid of breaking him and he almost laughs, because _nothing_ can break someone like Miya Atsumu.

Your thumb brushes over the plaster, lingering for longer than necessary, and just when he feels like he’s about to pass out from holding his breath you move away and all air rushes out of his chest. The lopsided smile on your face threatens to take the air out of his lungs _again_. You seriously need to stop that. His body has gone through too much trauma tonight.

“I’m sure you’ll live. No need for a trip to the hospital,” you laugh. He smirks, trying to look as normal as possible and not as if he had just died three times over.

“Damn, I kinda like when all the nurses give me attention,” Atsumu jokes, snorting when you offer a roll of your eyes and begin gathering all the snacks again.

“Well, you’ll get no pampering from me,” is what you say in return, and Atsumu thinks:

_What a damn shame that is._

\---

His body feels fucking _hot_ , and not the heatwave kind of hot. This feels as if his blood is on fire, absolutely boiling and ready to ignite at any second. It feels similar to when he’s two sets deep into a volleyball game, when the opponents are doing their best to keep Inarizaki on their toes.

He reckons he should at least open the window, but there are far more pressing concerns right now, like wrapping your legs around his waist and thrusting into you like his life depended on it.

You wore that cute little sundress today, the one with the sunflowers printed on it and those thins straps that would fall down constantly, making it look like your dress was barely hanging on and _fuck._ He just couldn’t help himself. 

You still have it on, but it’s hiked up around your waist, and the top of is pushed down so he can stare at your breasts as they bounce up and down from the force of his thrusts, the sound of skin slapping on skin so loud and crude it's enough to make even a porn star blush. 

He’s holding on so tight to your hips he’s positive that there are going to be two Atsumu sized handprints forever tattooed on your skin but he doesn’t mind, enjoys the idea, enjoys that anyone would know that you’re _his_.

And, God, you’re making the prettiest fucking sounds right now, mewling like a kitten and whimpering his name so sweetly he thinks he’s going to die if he doesn’t fuck you faster and harder, just like you’re begging for it.

He tilts your hips upwards and he must hit that sacred spot because suddenly you’re screaming in ecstasy, telling him _right there, y-yes right there, I’m gonna come!_ and he’s right there on the edge with you, just a bit more, sweat rolling down his forehead and chest heaving. You pull him in for a kiss and he feels like he’s drowning in these emotions in the best ways and he’s so fucking starstruck by you _and he’s-_

He’s jolted awake, heart pumping, out of breath, and with a familiar feeling of something wet and sticky in his boxers. He lies there in bed with a grimace. Shame washes over him like a shadow, and with it, a layer of confusion. Why you? Why do you make him feel as if he’s a completely different person when you’re near him? Why do you _fascinate_ him? And what the hell is he supposed to do about it? He’s sure he’ll find the answers in years to come, but right now? He needs to change out of his underwear before he feels even more disgusting and gets tempted into taking a shower at 4:03am. God, how _lame_ of him. 

(He can’t quite meet your eye when you come over to babysit the next Saturday. He even goes out of his way to avoid you or make conversation and he feels so stupid because of it but he’d rather that than turn as red as a tomato when he looks at you. You’re so concerned about him you even ask Osamu if he’s alright, but the grey-haired twin just shrugs and says Atsumu’s in one of his moods. You seem fine with that answer, giving the blonde a weak, troubled smile that he is unable to properly return because Osamu is glaring at him over your shoulder and mouths _‘what is wrong with you?’_. Whatever, Samu.)

\---

Atsumu can’t say he ever really intended to get close with you while you worked for his parents, but like the steady flowing of water in a calm river, you offered him something new each time, and like a man dying of thirst he greedily drank up all you had to offer. It was like completing a puzzle, finding a new piece that fit together to create one beautiful mess of a picture.

You’re still an enigma, that seems to remain a constant. But you’re not as withdrawn as you were before, and Atsumu’s pleased to learn you’ve the humour and wit of a firecracker with intelligence to boot, so very different from the girl you were at school.

There is still that lingering sadness in your eyes, though. But Atsumu almost imagines it gets dimmer with every passing day you spend at the Miya household.

And you handle him with an ease that terrifies him, like you’ve known him all your life and he has no secrets to hide from your watchful eyes.

One rainy Saturday in particular seems to be the catalyst which would change the course of your ‘friendship’ forever more.

Atsumu had already woken up on the wrong side of the bed that day, missing his alarm and damn near breaking his neck after he flung himself down the steps of his stairs while trying to put his pants on. Osamu didn’t bother waking him or waiting for him before leaving for practice, so you know, _that was nice._

His mother seemed to be in a foul mood as well and decided that yes, he had to wait while she yelled at him for all the chores he neglected that week in favour of spending (wasting) time with the hot redhead Hina from two doors down. (She had practically been throwing herself at him, and when he finally took her on a date he was surprised to find he would have preferred going home, maybe get his parents to head out for an impromptu date night so they could call you up and he could spend hours laughing at watching you dance for Yuta’s stupid TikToks because you’re too kind to say no.)

When he finally escaped her hellfire, he discovered Yuta had accidentally ripped into one of his kneepads when he tried to find out if it could fit around his entire head, and Atsumu couldn’t remember where his spares were. And that was just fucking dandy. He’ll have to murder Yuta later. Oh well, it was nice having an idiotic little brother while it lasted.

To add insult to injury, it was pouring cats and dogs outside, and he forgot to grab an umbrella before sprinting out the door because he was already an hour late to practice and coach was going to **kill** him, so he had no time to think about the weather. And because the world really wanted to shit on him today, he missed every bus on his way to the gym, so instead he just had to run in the rain if he was going to make it at a reasonable enough time.

He had burst through the doors of the gym, and everyone turned to stare, and glare, except Osamu because the prick knew this was going to happen and kept his face blank. He already knows Atsumu will attempt to smother him with a pillow later while he’s sleeping, so smirking and raising Atsumu’s blood pressure to dangerous levels wasn’t needed right now.

After a stern talking to from the coach, and Kita because _why not_ , Atsumu tried to do what Atsumu does best, but God, luck really wasn’t on his side today, was it? Most of his tosses were off, he bumped into Suna more times than he can count, and was too slow to block on multiple occasions. He can put his bad mood as the cause of his performance being so lame, but it was so god damn frustrating, and when coach had told him to take time out on the benches for the rest of the practice and try get back in order, he wanted to _scream_. He feels agitated, worthless, and tired. So fucking tired.

He said nothing to Osamu on the bus ride home after training, and Osamu kept silent as well, sensing the murderous aura drifting from his twin in waves (he’s glad, because if Samu even breathed too loudly Atsumu is positive he would have knocked him out.) The boys arrive home to see their mother flitting about the house, gathering her keys and purse in a hurry while Yuta idles by the front door. Atsumu barely listens as his mother says something about forgetting about Yuta’s check up at the doctors, shoving his shoes roughly into the little cubby hole. Right on cue the doorbell rang, signalling your arrival as per usual on Saturday, and his mother swears under her breath. 

Osamu opens the door to greet you, and Atsumu’s eyes flicker up from his spot on the floor in the entry way where he’s fiddling around with his gear bag. You have a smile on your face, as you usually do when you’re here, and you wipe raindrops off the tip of your nose.

“Oh jeez, I’m sorry honey I forgot to call you earlier,” his mother says, frantically slipping on her shoes and Atsumu takes some satisfaction in the fact he wasn’t the only one apparently late for something today. “You don’t have to babysit tonight, I’m taking Yuta to the doctors for a check-up. You can have the evening to yourself! Make the most of it, hang out with friends!”

Your face falls when she makes that last comment but his mother doesn’t see, too busy with making sure Yuta is set to go. Atsumu’s brows furrow.

“Osamu I need you to come with me and help with the groceries, I forgot to go shopping for dinner tonight.”

Osamu stops untying his laces and sighs quietly, agreeing to his mother’s demands and beginning the process of tying his laces again.

All set and ready to go, the three head out the door, his mother shouting out a final “get her a drink before she leaves, Tsumu!” before closing the door and leaving him alone in the house with you. He huffs, standing up and shrugging off his hoodie which was useless in protecting him from the rain. You stand awkwardly in the doorway, sensing tension in the air, clearly torn between just leaving or saying something to make him feel better. He rolls his eyes.

“What do you want?” he says, and he was referring to the drink but with the way you flinched you obviously mistook it for Atsumu being done with your presence. He amends this quickly. “Water?”

“O-Oh, no it’s- it’s fine, I’ll just go home if I’m not needed…” you mumble, and Atsumu should be glad that he’s given a few hours of peace after this shitfest of a day, but inexplicably he wants you to stay, to steal his attention and distract him from all the bad in world. He says your name with a sigh.

“It’s pouring buckets out there; you can wait here until it eases up.”

He leaves to go to the kitchen, not waiting for an answer, but the sound of your rain jacket coming off and the soft patter of your feet on the kitchen tiles are telling enough. You never said what you wanted, so he just gets you a glass of water and passes it to you in silence, the harsh raindrops hitting the window the only sound to be heard in the room. You take a small sip, finding a sudden interest in the fridge magnets and looking uncomfortable as hell, so Atsumu takes pity on you.

“C’mon, let’s watch something on TV, I’ve had a real shit day and I just don’t wanna think for a few hours.”

You look surprised, following tentatively behind him and taking a seat on the couch as he searched for the remote, letting out a muted ‘aha!’ once it was located. He makes a split second decision to sit next to you on the couch rather than the chair in the corner like he usually does, and you don’t make any comment when he collapses into the cushions, flicking onto some random reality TV show.

For a while nothing is said, and you both mindlessly watch the cringe fest on TV in relative silence, and Atsumu finally feels himself relax for the first time today. But he can tell you’re itching to know what’s up.

“You can ask,” he drones, eyes never drifting away from the nerdy guy trying to flirt with some Moldovan model and failing miserably. He half expects you to just blurt out ‘what the hell happened to you?’ but you don’t.

“Are you ok?” is what you ask instead, and Atsumu finds himself surprised at the knowledge that this is the first time someone has asked him that today. People have asked ‘what happened’, or ‘what’s wrong with you?’, but no one had actually bothered to ask after his wellbeing. (Not many people do, he realises, and that’s real fuckin’ sad.)

He keeps his gaze trained on the TV, partly because he has no energy in him right now to move his head, but mostly because he doesn’t want you to see the grimace on his face.

“I’m fine,” he lies, and he figures you’ll drop it and take his answer for definite like most people do, but he has momentarily forgotten you’re not like most people. There’s a beat of silence until you find your voice.

“…it’s important to share your troubles when they feel too heavy,” you nearly whisper. Your fingers rub the sides of the glass of water, setting it gently on the coffee table. “I’m here if you want to talk. Leaving your stress all bottled up inside doesn’t do anyone any good.” 

Atsumu somehow feels (no, he _knows_ , deep in his heart,) that you don’t practice what you preach, but he’s not here to judge when he does the same thing. And you’re offering him a friendly, unbiased shoulder to lean on. He’s a heartbeat away from declining, but the words catch on his tongue when he looks over to you, face full of understanding and warmth. 

“I…I didn’t have a good day.”

It feels dumb, the way he said it, but it’s enough for you, and you give a small nod which encourages him to keep talking. Once he starts, he can’t stop, like water falling from a leaky faucet. He gulps before continuing.

“Nothin’ went right for me today. Everything worked against me, and then people felt the need to give me shit over it, like it’s my fault. I _know_ it ain’t my fault, because how can the possibility of me missin’ every bus today on my way to practice be my fault at all? Sure, I missed my alarm this mornin’ but did Osamu even think to wake me up? _No._ Was it my fault Yuta ripped my knee pad with his fat head? _No, it wasn’t._ Yeah, maybe my tosses weren’t worth shit, but I was a _little distracted_ with how the team thought it was important to stare daggers at my back. The comments about how crappy I was doin’ wasn’t needed either but _whoop-de-fuckin-doo_ , I guess I was gonna get them anyway. Felt like no one was listenin’ to me when I decided to open my mouth, and I just- I just…I…”

His lungs feel like they’re ready to burst with the words he’s holding back, but he can’t properly articulate his feelings. Atsumu’s not used to this. He’s used to feeling in control, on top of the world, it’s why he became a setter after all, to be the hand that moves the pieces on the board. But he’s stuck with the feeling of lead sitting on his tongue, stopping anything words from leaving his mouth.

You place a gentle hand on his shoulder and he nearly jolts at the contact, eyes flitting upwards to meet your own pair of sweet, sad, beautiful eyes.

“You feel like you’re alone?” you finish for him, and Atsumu pauses. It’s impossible for Miya Atsumu to feel _alone_. He’s got his volleyball team, and they like him well enough, they’re his friends. He’s got his family and his twin, who are supportive as hell if a bit annoying at times, but they mean well. He’s practically drowning in classmates and fans alike in school, and honestly it can get overbearing but what can you do when you’re one of the most popular boys in school? 

It’s safe to say Miya Atsumu is _never_ alone. The thought is absurd.

But…for all the pleasantries and smiles thrown his way every waking second of life, Atsumu isn’t so sure he fits in as well as he thinks. He isn’t oblivious to the tension he feels from his teammates, how they isolate him the second he starts running his mouth, because he’s a perfectionist and if you can’t hit his tosses why the hell are you even playing in the first place? He’s close with Osamu, and his parents try to get him to open up when he has a problem, but why waste the time? Osamu has his own share of troubles to deal with and his parents are too far removed to know what it feels like to be someone his age. And in school, well, he realises he doesn’t really have any friends except for those on the team. Sure, he has acquaintances, the few oddballs who constantly come up to talk and joke with him during lunch breaks, but they never ask to hang out with him after class, and when they do Atsumu is usually preoccupied with volleyball. 

Well, then.

Maybe Atsumu is alone, and the notion makes his heart sink to the pit of his stomach because _wow_. Did he really not see this?

In an unusual move for the blonde, he shifts quickly so his head rests in your lap, staring blankly at the ceiling, because he has the strange need to be physically close to someone so that the idea of him being alone isn’t so raw. He knows you’re uncomfortable with the abrupt change in position, he can feel it with how tense your thighs are beneath his head, but after a minute you relax, and he closes his eyes in bliss when your hand starts hesitantly brushing through the rough strands of his bleached hair. It’s quiet for a moment, with the rain still beating heavily on the windows providing the only background sound in this little bubble you’ve both created.

“It’s not nice, feeling alone,” you sigh, and Atsumu reasons you’re practically an expert on the subject because in all his two years at Inarizaki so far he doesn’t think he’s seen anyone talk _with_ you, only at you or about you with cruel intentions. “It makes your heart feel empty, and makes it seem like there’s no one in the world who could possibly know what you’re feeling, no matter how much you talk or how many people are around you.”

Fuck, if that isn’t the most depressing thing he’ll relate to this year he doesn’t know what else could be.

“But, when I feel like that, I take slight comfort in the knowledge that I’m not the only person in the world who experiences this. As awful as it sounds, because I wouldn’t wish this on anyone, I know that someone, somewhere in the world, felt the same way as me. And they got better. Because every day, you start fresh, and leave your worries of yesterday exactly where they’re supposed to be – in the past. So find someone to talk to, to help you carry the burden, and then look forward to tomorrow, because it’s your chance to begin again. You’re an amazing person, Atsumu. Don’t let people tell you otherwise.”

His eyes peeled open as you spoke, glazed over and staring at your face nearly shrouded in shadow, the light on the ceiling casting you in a glow akin to a halo, like some divine angel sent down to him to whisper sweet words in his ears and play with his hair and lift the dead weight off his chest. He feels a twisting in his stomach when you smile down at him, a lurch in his throat when you lightly scratch at his scalp that almost has him purring, and a skip in his heart when you whisper his name to grab his attention again. 

But he’s not paying much attention to your words any more, a somewhat annoying trait of his, as his brother would argue, because he’s staring intensely at your plush lips, his body and his heart acting with a will of it’s own while his mind screams at him to slow down, but he’s too caught up in your everything to notice. 

His face moves upwards, and there’s a split second where your face morphs into confusion before his lips are on yours, his eyes drifting shut as his body feels like its floating away in bliss. He senses heat radiating from your face, and for moment too long you stay stock still, until eventually Atsumu feels like he might have crossed a line and makes the decision to move away, but your soft lips press against his own before he can detach himself from you, and Atsumu knows he won’t be able to stop whatever comes next, but you invite him in willingly, hands holding him close to you as your kiss becomes more intense.

He shifts, sitting up and weaving his fingers through the hair at the back of your head while his other hand keeps him supported, pressing hard into the couch on the outside of your thigh. Your hands move with a hurriedness he didn’t expect, fingers trembling as you pull him closer, mouths sliding against each other almost sloppily as Atsumu gladly leans into your space, chest pressing itself to yours. He wonders idly if you can feel how hard his heart is beating in his chest, if you feel it pound like a war drum on your delicate skin.

Another shift in position, but this time Atsumu gets you on your back laying on the couch. He finally pulls away for air, and takes a moment to look at you, to memorise this forever, to store it away in his heart. Your face is flushed, a blush creeping its way up your neck to the tips of your ears. Your chest rises and falls rapidly as you suck in much needed air, and his eyes lazily track the movements, a smirk flitting across his face. The beginnings of a tangled mess makes up your hair, stray pieces falling into your eyes, but you don’t move them away. You keep your hands resting by your head, and your eyes locked on his, and Atsumu think that being alone isn’t so terrible, if he could be alone with you. 

His lips descend on your neck, licking and nipping and sucking to draw out sounds from deep in your chest until you’re a moaning mess, and, yup, this is _definitely_ better than his dreams. Your hands can’t decide where to stay, drifting from his hair to his face and his shoulders, but your touch is trailing flames across his skin and he craves more. He’s already getting hard and nothing major has even happened yet. 

His broad, calloused hands inch their way up your waist, just shy of touching your breasts, and he hums in pleasure and surprise against your neck when you grab hold of them and place them directly on your chest. Your face has a hint of embarrassment in it, but the haze of lust overpowers it, and Atsumu starts to knead at your breasts. It’s awkward, especially over the layers of your shirt, and Atsumu starts the feel a burn of humiliation on his cheeks even though he’s slept with other girls before (but those were rushed fumbling’s in the dark, and he never quite missed the look of disappointment on their faces when he didn’t rock their world and give them 100 earth shattering orgasms but _damn it_ he was learning too) but you didn’t look at him with disdain when his fingers started to twitch. You placed a hand on his cheek, and whispered _‘you’re ok’_ , and Atsumu’s so grateful he would cry if his dick straining against his pants wasn’t occupying his mind. 

With a new sense of purpose, he returns to the space between your shoulder and neck, biting down while he gave a good squeeze to your tits, and the moan that slipped from your lips was heavenly. He lifts your shirt off your body, eyes roving the expanse of your torso and he watches as you reach behind you to unclip your bra, shoving the straps down your arms and the bra off your body. He barely has time to drool over the sight of your chest before your nimble fingers tug at the ends of his own shirt, one he gladly reaches behind him to pull over his head and tosses it blindly to floor, immediately diving into suck and fondle at your nipples. 

Your hand grips his hair tightly but he groans at the feeling, swirling his tongue around the peaks. Your leg accidentally moves and brushes his groin and he’s mortified at how fast his hips jerk, seeking more friction, and you push at his chest, putting a bit of space between both of your frantic bodies. You kick off your shoes, and Atsumu gets the idea, hands flying to pull his tracksuit pants down and off his legs, his large hands making quick work of pulling your jeans down your legs until all that’s left is your panties. 

His fingers hook into the sides of your underwear, but he stops before pulling them down, looking up into your eyes questioningly. 

“I-Is this ok? I mean if it’s not that’s fine we can just end it here-“ **God please say its ok or else he’ll die.**

You smile so kindly at him, mouth quivering slightly, and cradle his face in your hands, nodding.

“Yes, of course it’s ok. I trust you.”

Well, _fuck._

With shaking hands he pulls down the last barrier on your body, and he pulls down his, and suddenly your both naked and staring at each other and his heart is about to take flight. He runs his hands up and down your waist, and you’re staring at him with your brows raised and he’s really confused because what do yo-

_Oh._

Atsumu swears he never sprinted so fast in his entire existence as he did that night, running to his wallet and thanking his arrogance for once for keeping a condom there at all times, y’know, just in case, and hops over the back of the couch and bounces onto the cushions, causing you to giggle, and he’s laughing too, and he feels stupid and light and it’s perfect. 

With the condom on he throws you one last look, and you take a deep breath, nodding your assent, and he’s pushing into you, face buried into your neck and holding his breath as he slowly fills you up. Your nails are digging into his back and you're taught like a wire underneath him and he thinks _shit_ , maybe he should have prepared you more but they don’t exactly have much time until his family returns and he doesn’t want this to stop. 

He goes inch by inch until his hips touch yours, and air rushes out of your chest. You’re tight and warm and amazing and he just- he needs a minute, or this will end sooner than he likes. 

He lifts his head from your neck to see your eyes are screwed shut, and he brings a hand up to brush his fingers against your cheek. It causes you to look up at him, but you still smile at him, albeit one that’s a tad strained, and kiss his lips so softly. He gets lost in it for a moment, until he feels you move your hips, and then he starts to thrust, slowly at first, building a rhythm, hands grasping at your hips and moaning loudly. 

The rain still clatters heavily on the glass of the windows, but it’s long forgotten, along with everything else, because the only thing that matters is the feeling of your bodies rubbing against each other, the clenching of your pussy around his cock that has his eyes rolling backwards into his skull, dragging an animalistic groan from the depths of his chest, quickening his pace until he’s pounding into you and you’re moaning his name, all for him, only him. He feels he’s close, and it’s too soon, but he knows he won’t last long with the way you’re panting into his ear and taking him so perfectly, planting kisses behind his ear. One hand grips the cushion by your head until his knuckles turn white, and the other moves to rub at your clit (because _yes_ he has the decency to know how to get a girl off unlike other idiots he knows), and he bites his lip when you damn near scream with pleasure, back arching and tightening around his dick until he can’t take it anymore.

He comes with a groan, hips jerking twice before he stills inside you, and you milk him for all he’s worth, whimpering breathlessly. All strength gone, he collapses against you, cheeking resting atop the pillow of your breast which is moving uncontrollably as you both fight to catch your breath. 

“Did you…” he gasps out.

“Mmhmm,” is all you can answer, but it’s enough. He’s satisfied. 

All is still after a few moments except for the motions of your fingers trailing a slow path up and down his back, threatening to lull him into a peaceful sleep. Mother Nature is still unleashing her rage outside, but he takes comfort in the rainfall hitting the glass. He knows he needs to get up and get back in order, erase all evidence of what just transpired, but he needs a minute, to savour the warmth of your body mingling with his, the silk of your skin so different from his rough surface.

(He wants to stay here in your arms forever, he realises with a start. Wants to stay wrapped up in your embrace before he needs to put on his mask for the world.

A mask which, he later realises in years to come, would be his undoing.)


	3. the burden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! sorry if this seems a bit late, i hope you enjoy! also to any american readers out there please stay safe right now and remember, black lives matter!

Atsumu thanks every higher power that there could possibly be that he’s managed to keep his…whatever it is you two have away from the prying eyes of his family, because that is a long winded and prying conversation he has absolutely no interest in having, especially with parents as nosy as his. Besides, he doesn’t want to possibly compromise your babysitting job, he doesn’t know how his family would take the news that he’s fucking the babysitter (how hot and cliché), so he keeps his trysts with you buried deep under the blankets on his bed. He wonders if Osamu knows, y’know, that twin telepathy shit because he often catches Osamu staring at you a tad too long to be comfortable whenever you blush in Atsumu’s presence (which is quite a lot nowadays, especially after a particularly interesting round of sex that leaves you walking funny afterwards, much to Atsumu’s amusement), but his brother has yet to mention it, and Osamu _always_ takes the opportunity to tease Atsumu where he can.

Honestly, it’s difficult, because every time he lays eyes on you all he wants to do is bend you over every surface of the house and have his way with you (he also wants you to hold him tightly, talk about easy things, only good things, and make his whole body feel like it’s floating on cloud nine, but he never lets this admission pass his lips). But with his family around, and the fact that, you know, you actually have to do your job and take care of Yuta, it’s hard to find time alone with you at all.

Which is why at around 2am when he should be sleeping, he instead spends the time sending messages to you, the glow of the screen painting his face in an eerie shade of blue.

**me:** hey you should come over tomorrow, my family will be gone for most of the day

**cute butt:** But I only work on Saturdays

**me:** yeah I know that, dumbass, I want to hang out with you lmao

A pause.

**cute butt:** Are you sure?

**me:** uhm yeah lol why wouldn’t I be? 

**cute butt:** Well…

**cute butt:** Because

The bubble with the dots appear on screen for far too long, before disappearing.

They reappear again, before blinking out of existence.

Atsumu frowns. Huh. 

**cute butt:** I’m free tomorrow. What time do you want me to come over?

You’re hiding something from him, but it’s late so he gives you a pass.

**me:** any time after 11am is g. my family are visiting my aunt outside the city so theyre gonna be gone for hours ;)))) i can do whatever you want me to do for you babe

**cute butt:** Oh my god. It’s concerning how horny you are sometimes. I think you might be an addict.

**me:** are you saying you don’t enjoy yourself??

God, please, don’t let her say she isn’t, his ego can’t take it after how many weeks you’ve been having sex together. 

**cute butt:** Of course I am, you KNOW I am

_Thanks God, I owe you one._

**me:** well then stop your complaining and enjoy both my dick and my amazing personality. its not often that people are graced with both yanno

**cute butt:** I can’t believe you

**cute butt:** I’m going to bed now, Atsumu

**cute butt:** Good night, sleep well, and see you tomorrow

**me:** sweet dreams, princess

He shuts his phone off with a muted click, the room now plunged in darkness. Atsumu falls asleep with a lazy smile.

\---

Atsumu swears your lips are like magic, especially when they’re wrapped so tightly around his dick. The room carries the heavy smell of sex despite the windows opened to leave a light summer breeze drift in, gently kissing the skin of your heated, naked bodies. You look heavenly, with the afternoon light bathing your kneeling form in a golden glow. Atsumu reaches out with a hand and threads it through the strands of hair at the top of your head, tugging abruptly when your tongue laps at the sensitive spot on his shaft. He groans, torn between tilting his head back in pleasure and wanting to watch you suck his cock, staring innocently up at him through thick lashes. (Funny how you looks so sweet while doing something so sinful.)

He groans out a strangled mess of your name when your hand softly rubs at his balls, and that familiar tightening in his gut starts making a strong appearance. He uses his hand to bob your head up and down and you take him willingly, letting him fuck into your mouth with abandon as he chases his high. Your nails dig crescent moons into his thighs, and when he feels it might be too much for you, you give a particularly hard suck that has him seeing stars and he feels his release soon after, his cum spraying in your mouth and on your face. He slumps backwards slightly on his bed, taking a mental picture of the way you look right now; a wild thing with messy hair and a red face covered in his cum and dripping onto your breasts. Absolutely perfect.

You pick up an old t-shirt of his to clean your face and Atsumu grumbles out a complaint as he shifts to lay down properly on the bed, making room for you as you join him and immediately curl into his chest. He wraps a loose arm around your waist because hey, it’s still summer and it’s hot as hell and you’ve been fucking for hours now, he can feel how sweaty and sticky your bodies are but awesome shower sex can come later, he really needs to take a breather. You sigh into his chest.

“I’m so sore,” you mumble.

“In a good way?”

“Obviously,” you snort, and it brings a grin to his face.

“Well I just wanna make sure,” he replies, and he can feel your smile against his skin. Warmth blooms in his heart. “Had to ask because the way you were bouncing on me and doin’ your best impression of Calamity Jane ridin’ into town on her horse looked kinda painful. Thought you were gonna blow your back out or sumn’.”

He jerks in surprise when you slap his stomach, laughing when you turn to him with the most adorable pout. 

“Shut up, Tsumu,” he loves that you use his nickname. “I heard no complaints on your end!”

“Oh definitely not. Guess you’re the expert at these things,” he huffs in amusement. You grow quiet.

“…I am?” you ask softly, and Atsumu raises a brow.

“Uhh, yeah, I guess? I mean you seem to know what you’re doing,” is all he can say because he doesn’t really know what you’re getting at. Your fingers trace patterns on his skin, and he recognises the move as a sign of nervousness from you. Atsumu furrows his brows.

“That’s…surprising, actually.”

“How so?”

“I mean, you’re the only guy I’ve slept with. I didn’t exactly have any opportunity to learn how to ‘do it’.

You dropped it so casually that Atsumu had to repeat the sentence a few times in his head before he understood the gravity of your words. He blanched.

What? 

“What?”

Not exactly what he had planned on saying but whatever, he’ll take it, it’s the smartest thing his brain can think up right now.

“Uh…yeah. Y-You were the first person I had sex with.” 

You peeked upwards to see his reaction but Atsumu was utterly dumbstruck. _He was your first?_ (For a quick moment he feels elation tinged with something smug but smothers it down before it can show on his face, because you’d surely have some choice words for him and this conversation is more serious than it seems.)

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out. “I’m really sorry, I probably should have told you before we did it but it didn’t seem right and I didn’t want to ruin the mood or have you change your mind and I don’t know, I guess I just-“

You’re rambling. _You’re panicking._ You’re avoiding his eyes, instead your gaze is kept on his chest.

He’s surprised, but at the same time he’s…not? It’s a shock to hear, definitely, but he has never seen you _with_ people, so it makes sense that you never took anyone to bed with you. He supposes he figured you’d at least have friends or acquaintances outside school but with how you have never mentioned their existence at all in the time he’s gotten to know you, he now suddenly doubts that you have any friends at all. And, Christ, that’s such a miserable life and you don’t deserve that.

“Wow,” he lets loose a breath to cut off your rambling, and can practically feel you thrumming with anxiety beside him. He pulls you just a little closer and you welcome it, burying your face in his chest.   
And because he’s Atsumu, he defuses the tension in the air with his world famous cockiness.

“How lucky were you to get a sex god like me to be your first? Damn, kinda jealous of you, wish I could have sex with myself.” You sigh, but your shoulders shake with restrained laughter. Mission success.

“Keep talking like that and you _will_ be sleeping with yourself and getting well acquainted with your hand,” you flash him a saccharine smile that makes his heart skip a beat. He throws a smirk at you.

“Bold of you to assume I wasn’t already well acquainted with my hand. He’s my best friend on lonely nights, y’know? A trusty companion.”

“Ah, of course. I could never compare to the famous hand of god, hmm? Powerful setter by day, masturbating machine by night.” He snorts, flicking your nose and ignoring your soft protests.

“Eh, you do a good enough job, I s’pose. You’ll get there. Guess you’ll just have to keep practicing, huh?” 

He tackles you into the sheets again and you laugh loudly and freely when he pinches at your sides, and thinks it’s possibly the most beautiful and melodic sound he’s ever had the good fortune to hear. He inhales the sound with a passionate kiss, saves it in mind and heart for his darkest nights. 

You pull back and he makes a small noise of complaint. You look into his eyes, biting your lip in contemplation. 

“We’re…friends, right?” You pause, and he feels the beginnings his anxiety flood his veins. “What are we exactly?”

“Yeah,” is all he says, and with the way your eyes dim in disappointment, you clearly wanted better clarification, but something stalls his tongue. “We’re friends. Who have sex.”

“…right.”

A lump forms in his throat. Please don’t cut things off with him. He likes, no _loves_ the way things are, how simple and carefree things are, how you make him feel on top of the world with a simple smile. It would be expected that, with the way he feels so strongly about you, he would jump at the chance of being your boyfriend and call you his, it’s what _he_ expects. But his body physically can’t get the words out of his body, mouth turning dry and words turning to sand when he goes to speak. And he really does not know why. Fuck.

So for now, until he can figure out what the fuck is wrong with him, friends will do. Being friends is enough.

(It will have to be.)

He says your name quietly, hand cupping your cheek and heart pumping when your eyes flutter at the feeling.

“We’re friends, trust me. You make me feel good, like I can be myself around you. Don’t get that with many people. You’re special. And you can talk to me about anything as well, if ya want, obviously. So yeah, we’re friends. Who occasionally have mind blowin’ sex. It’s a great situation overall, to be honest.”

You look less troubled as he spoke, but he knows it’s bothering you underneath, that sadness you usually carry in your pretty irises slowly coming out (he had not seen it for a while, you were happy and safe being in the Miya household, with Atsumu, but he was foolish for thinking it suddenly disappeared), and he isn’t ready for an argument with you. But luckily for him, you decide to drop it for today and let a lopsided smile grace your face.

“I don’t really have friends,” you whisper, and his heart splits in two at the forlorn expression you wear, staring distantly at the ceiling. 

“Well, to quote Toy Story, you got a friend in me. And Osamu and Yuta too. Everyone else…they’re too stupid to realise what an amazing and smart girl you are. Ignore them, I sure as hell do.”

(No you _don’t_ , you big fat liar Atsumu.)

“They don’t deserve your kindness. You’re too good for Hyogo.”

You beam at him, a bashful look replacing the last one and he’s grateful for that. He knows that this topic will come up again, when he isn’t sure, and he doesn’t know if he’ll be ready, but for now he’s content to revel in ignorance and stay in the little bubble that is you. He kisses your chin, your cheeks, your nose, anything he can get at while you giggle, moving around to avoid his assault on your skin.

Thank God for youth he thinks, as you both start round 500.

\---

There’s clearly something you’re not saying, and it’s beginning to annoy Atsumu. Ever since you had arrived for your weekly babysitting session and the twins had returned from practice, you’ve been on edge and replying to them with curt answers, wringing your hands and avoiding direct confrontation altogether. He can practically smell the anxiety coming from you in waves, even Yuta knows there’s something off about you today, distracted. And it’s really pissing Atsumu off, because you hadn’t said a word to him about what’s wrong.

You sit on the couch, leg bouncing nervously at a mile a minute and Atsumu has half a mind to grab your shoulders and shake you until words fall out of your mouth. You’re even putting Osamu on edge, who can’t properly enjoy his food because his dark eyes flicker to you every so often out of curiosity as everyone anticipates what you’re going to do.

It’s when Yuta makes his way to the bathroom to shower before bed is when the blonde finally snaps, piercing into the tense silence of the living room.

“Well?”

You jump, startled eyes looking back at him.

“What?”

“You gonna say what’s getting to ya? Or do you wanna continue sittin’ here and acting like everything’s fine when it ain’t?”

He’s scowling, and the expression makes you sink further into the cushions, as if hoping the couch will swallow you whole. Your mouth opens and shut like a fish as you try to find the right words.

“Uhm…we’re friends, right?”

Shit, this again? But then Atsumu realise you aren’t just talking to him. You’re looking at his brother, because you know that Atsumu is your friend, and you want confirmation from the other Miya twin. He looks stunned for a moment before he offers a shrug.

“Yeah, I guess we are.”

“Right. Ok,” you sigh, fingers tracing patterns into the palm of your hand and Atsumu watches it with a furrowed brow. You clearly aren’t finished speaking. He clears his throat.

“And?”

You look towards him sheepishly, almost like you were embarrassed to think you could hide anything from him. Your tongue peaks out to wet your lips.

“Friends hang out at other friends’ houses, don’t they?”

“What are you doing, writin’ a book on the basics of friendship?” You flinch, and he swears under his breath. It wasn’t his intention to insult you. He back tracks. “What’s up with you tonight? You’ve been nervous as shit and have barely said two words to us. What’s wrong?”

“It’s- uhm. Well.” You huff, squaring your shoulders much like he does when he’s getting ready to serve. “My parents, they…they want to meet my ‘new friends’ and have you over at my house for dinner.”

It’s silent in the room save for the drone of the television, and you turn pale at the lack of response from either male in the room. 

“I told them it was a stupid idea anyway, and I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfor-“

“Is that it?” Atsumu pipes up. “Just a dinner? That’s fine,” he agrees, anything to wipe away your anxieties. 

“Yeah that shouldn’t be a problem,” supplies Osamu. “Don’t know why you were so scared for. Coulda just told us up front.”

The relief on your face is palpable, and Atsumu feels bad for being so narky with you. The hand he has resting on the couch slides gingerly over to where yours is, his pinky finger moving to rest so subtly atop yours, away from Osamu’s gaze. You hook your pinky into his, sending a grateful smile to him quickly. 

“That’s-that’s really great guys, thank you,” you sigh, near deflating and releasing all the anxiety in your chest. “Would you be able to come tomorrow afternoon?”

“I don’t have anything to do before tomorrow night, so I’m free,” Osamu mumbles with a mouth full of food.

Damn, that’s a bit soon and Astumu doesn’t have enough time to mentally prepare and talk himself out of going. Oh well.

“Yeah that’s good with me, girly.”

Your pinky slightly squeezes his in thanks. Atsumu returns the gesture. _No problem._

“Ok, perfect! I’ll let my parents know and I’ll text you the details later.”

You pause, and grin bashfully. 

“I’m really excited to have you guys over!”

Knowing your lack of friends, of course you’d get excited over the twins visiting your house. All the more reason for Atsumu’s heart to shred into tiny pieces as he looks at the enthusiastic expression you’re wearing as you ask the twins what kind of foods they like.

\---

The Miya twins weren’t really sure what to expect to happen when they strolled over to your house that Sunday afternoon (detailed directions were sent to each of their phones, twice to be exact, and his heart gives a jump in affection over how excited and nervous you are), but it certainly wasn’t…this.

They had knocked at the door and it was opened in a flash, with you dressed in your literal Sunday best (Atsumu stutters out a greeting when you gave him a huge grin, moving strays hairs out of your face, and his chheks heats up embarrassingly). You ushered them in through the door hurriedly, and they removed their shoes in the entryway. Atsumu observed what he could see of the house quietly. It was a nice house, small, not so different from any of his other friends’ houses. It was clean, _very_ clean, and with that cleanliness came a distinct lack of photographs lining the walls and table ends. As you showed the twins your living room, he felt something twist his gut as he stared at painfully blank walls. There were a few pictures, sure. Most of them look like stock photos you see online of some great looking tourist spots, but there are a few homely ones. There’s one on the bookshelf of what looks to be your parents’ wedding day, and another of what he assumes is an old pet dog because you had never mentioned having a dog. There’s even one of you when you were really young, playing with toys in the gard- wait. Is that you or is that your…sister? 

Atsumu feels like he can guess as to why there aren’t many family photos in the house. He feels bile at the back of his throat. 

Then it came to meeting your parents.

Atsumu has decided he likes your dad. He’s like you in so many ways. He wears a kind old smile on his face (but his eyes scream of a pain similar to yours). He asks excitedly about the boys and their lives and school and their friendship with you, engaging with interest when they mention they play volleyball. He regales them with tales of _his_ old volleyball days (“wing spiker, and pretty darn good if I say so myself!”), and laughs so heartily it feels like coming home to the warmth of your house on a cold winters day. He’s kind, incredibly so, and Atsumu can clearly see where you get it from. Yeah, he really likes your dad.

Your mother, however-

Well if he’s being blunt, she’s a bitch. 

As he bites into the vegetables on his plate (it was a serving of tonkatsu, apparently you had prepared and cooked it all morning with your father and it was unbelievably good), Atsumu avoids your mother’s withering glare like the plague, and he knows Osamu is doing the same on his left hand side. Hell, even _you’re_ doing it. 

Conversation (when it’s not solely with your dad, which is what he so desperately wants to get back to, can your mother fuck off to the bathroom and stop ruining your day?) is stunted, clipped, and he itches to get up from the table and bolt back home because your mother won’t stop staring at the twins with such a scrutinising eye that he’s actually beginning to search his mind for anything that he could have done to personally offend her. I mean, he’s sleeping with her daughter, but you hardly told them that.

Atsumu looks to the right, to where your nose is practically stuck in your plate as you shuffle food around disinterestedly. Such a stark difference to twenty minutes ago when you were buzzing with excitement at having the boys sit down for dinner. 

“So,” your father breaks the silence, “what’s my little bunny like in school? She hardly ever talks about it!” He chuckles, eyes flickering between the boys. You’ve gone still beside him but your father doesn’t notice. He’s confused on how he should answer but Osamu decides to speak up first when the silence dragged on a bit too long.

“I’m not in her class, so I never knew her before she started babysitting my brother,” he mumbles, gathering meat onto his chopsticks. “Atsumu is in her class, though.”

_Well that wasn’t fucking helpful you ashy haired prick._

“Uh, I sit next to her, actually,” is what his mind stupidly allows him to say and he’d shut up but your father is looking at him with so much happiness and hope for his daughter he thinks he feels a lump form in his throat at the thoughts of possibly lying to him. So he opts for the truth in the least painful way he can think of. 

“We never really spoke to each other much in school, I was always really busy with volleyball. I hope to play for national teams in the future,” is what he starts with, and your father looks amazed at his career goals while your mother scoffs lightly. He remembers how intelligent you are, and decides to expand on that. “She was always studying hard whenever I saw her, which obviously pays off. Her test results are crazy good. And she’s really kind, she helps everyone who asks in a heartbeat.”

There. A bit of gassing up never hurt anybody. He wishes he could say more but somehow “your daughter gives amazing head” doesn’t seem dinner appropriate. But he’ll settle for the timid smile and the glow of your cheeks. You father looks delighted, and Atsumu feels his body relax but your mother cuts into the conversation.

“Clearly it wasn’t good enough for you to talk to her in school.”

Well shit.

“Or for anyone to talk to her, for that matter.”

What the fuck?

You’ve gone so tense beside him you’re practically stone, eyes stuck on the plate in front of you, that sweet glow on your cheeks drained faster than he could blink. He pays no attention to your father’s embarrassed look, instead staring your mother down with a blank expression, Osamu seemingly doing the same thing. They don’t want to be overly rude, but quite frankly your mother is getting on every one of their last fucking nerves. 

“Sweetheart, please-“ 

“Tell me,” your mother cuts off your father. “Does she even try to talk to anyone?”

Wow. Atsumu can’t even answer her, too shocked and trying to process how this witch of a woman gave birth to one of the purest souls on this planet. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree here, instead the apple fucking flew into the sky and went into hyperspace. Your mother scoffs in contempt. 

“Our darling has always been on the slower end when it comes to these things, it’s true, but I doubt that she’s made a single friend since she started at Inarizaki.” 

Your father attempts to keep her quiet but wilts under her stare, his protests becoming weaker and weaker. You look down right mortified and upset, a grimace set on your face, quivering, like you’re trying to hold down your emotions, and Atsumu feels an awful churn in his stomach, bile threatening to shoot out of his throat. 

“Mom please-“

“I wouldn’t complain about the studying if I knew she was going to _take_ it anywhere. The girl can barely decide what to wear every day, let alone what career she hopes to have. I mean, really, you have one more year left. The clock is ticking and you need to decide soon what you’re going to do in college. _These_ boys are clearly doing well for themselves. They see what they want and they go for it. It’s a shame you can’t be more like them,” she sighs, taking a generous gulp of her wine. "You don’t have to be shy, boys, you can admit you’re friends with her out of pity. It makes more sense at this point.”

“Mom stop,” you whisper, a noticeable tremble in your voice.

Atsumu is pretty sure that if it wasn’t illegal and morally wrong, he’d sucker punch your mother so hard her head would spin around her shoulders, like in a cartoon. Osamu, for his lack of words, looks _murderous_ , giving a glare so intense at your mother even Atsumu would shudder in fear but she pays them no mind, continuing to direct her abuse at you. ‘Bitch’ seems too soft a word to describe your mother with the way she’s presenting herself as a hellish sack of shit.

“Really, dear. You ought to start improving yourself, or you’ll be left behind with the rest of the low-life’s in this city. It’s pathetic, if you ask me.”

You abruptly move out of your chair and toward the front door, and Atsumu finds he’s moving just as fast, automatically moving to catch up with you as you throw a random pair of shoes on quickly and bolt out the door leaving Atsumu to do the same in a hurry. He feels a presence behind him, and hazards guess that Osamu has also used this as an opportunity to book it out of the house. He, at least, has the decency to mumble a thanks to your father who in turn apologises profusely to the twins. Before Atsumu bolts out of the house, his blood absolutely _boils_ when he hears that your mother has the audacity to sound shocked at your outburst. Fuck, what did you do in a past life to be stuck with the shit you deal with?

You didn’t make it far. The twins found you leaning against a wall, dragging in breaths as if you couldn’t get enough air into your lungs, hunched over and sobbing so pitifully that Atsumu practically feels his heart split into two pieces. 

You sense their presence, but you can’t keep your eyes on them for too long, ashamed of what they just had to sit through. Some onlookers get nosy and stare, but Atsumu scares them off with the dirtiest look he can muster.

“I’m-I’m so sorry, I’m so fucking sorry,” you cry, hugging yourself, tears streaming down your beautiful face. Atsumu vows to never allow that expression to fall on your face ever again.

(But Atsumu learns he can’t always keep his promises, can he?) 

“I-I was really ex-excited for today and I really, really like you guys and i-it’s so kind of you to be friends with a loser like me and I’m sorry I’m not a better person, a-and I j-just wanted to do something nice for you two b-but my mom…my _mom_ …” you’re hiccuping through your words, and he can’t ever remember seeing someone cry so much. Maybe Yuta when he was younger, but even then it was for trivial things. This is genuine despair and embarrassment and Atsumu has to wonder what kind of stuff really goes on behind the doors of your house. 

He’s on you in a second, strong arms wrapping around your shaking form and you fall into his embrace like you belong there ( _you do_ ), sobbing openly into his chest and soaking his shirt with your tears. He’s truly at a loss for what to say to you right now because he has never seen a shitshow as bad as that, so he does what he knows and holds you close, swaying gently from side to side, and begins tracing patterns into the base of your neck. (He subconsciously traces the words ‘safe’ and ‘love’ into your skin, but he won’t remember it. _You do_ , however, but he won’t know it until years later.)

You recognise the familiar comforting tick, and gradually relax, heavy sobs fading into muted whimpers and sniffles. It’s not enough to heal all wounds, but it’s a start.

It’s Osamu who breaks the silence. He speaks your name so gently that the wind could carry it away, and your head moves to look in the ashy haired boys direction. His smile is small, but it’s full of sincerity and sympathy.

“You are not a loser. Ignore what your mother said. And don’t apologise for something that isn’t your fault.”

You give another whimper and the crying starts again, but it isn’t as dramatic as a few moments ago.

“Don’t ever apologise for being you.”

Osamu, in a rare display of affection, grabs hold of your hand and doesn’t let go while you bury your face in Atsumu’s chest again. He looks at his brother, and he stares back with his deep, dark eyes. They share a nod of acknowledgment, and no more is said as you continue crying.

Atsumu regrets not being able to articulate what he wants to say, regrets not being able to comfort like he knows he should, how to ease your burdens like you so easily do for him. He doesn’t know how to bring light into your life in the way that you do his, shining brighter than a thousand suns and bathing him in your purifying glow. He doesn’t know how to handle your worries, feeling like they slip through the spaces between his fingers like sand. He can’t, and he feel helpless, and weak, and _useless_ , but right now it isn’t about him. It’s about you and taking one step at a time until you feel just a little bit better.

Deep breath in. He holds you tighter. You press a barely-there kiss to his chest, where his heart is, and he’s sure you feel the organ stop beneath your lips. Exhale out.

\--- 

The world decided to have mercy on him this evening, it seems, as the house was thankfully empty the evening of your disastrous dinner. The twins had brought you into the comfort of the Miya household, silently agreeing that going back to your house was the worst thing for you right now. Osamu had plans to stay at Ojiro’s house already, and despite the uneasy look on his face, Atsumu assured him that he could look after you the best he could, and soon you were both left to the peace of his room.

He’s holding you tight from behind, arms wrapped tight around your midsection, intertwining his fingers with yours and tangling his long legs with yours under the sheets. His nose is buried in your hair, and his eyes blankly stare at the utensils on his desk while his mind won’t shut up, going into hyperdrive and overthinking about what he should say to break the silence because you certainly aren’t going to do it any time soon.

You have been silent since you crawled into his bed, barely moving beneath his arms that he would assume you fell asleep but he knows you’re too wired from the events of this afternoon to just sleep it off. 

It makes Atsumu nervous because he really isn’t equipped to handle a situation as fucked as this, so he lays there and frets silently, hoping you can’t feel a shake in his hands as his thumb attempts to rub soothing circles over the back of your hand.

The digital clock on his nightstand casts a green glow around the room. It reads 7:24pm, nearly 3 hours since you lay down on his bed, and marks the time when you decide to speak.

“My twin sister killed herself a few years ago. Her name was Lily.”

Atsumu bites his tongue to stop himself from saying _I know, everyone knows_ because he knows that this is the time for him to stay quiet for once in his life, and let you unload the anchors that have been dragging your heart to the depths of darkness. He feels you swallow thickly, and moves the hand he’s holding so that it tucks into your chest, effectively holding you tighter to him and letting you know that he’s here, with your heart in his hand.

“It happened in my second year of middle school. She gave no warning, just went up to the roof during break and…jumped.”

You sound drained, as if every word is taking more effort than it should and stealing the life from your body. 

“She seemed fine that morning. Nothing was different. We ate our breakfast together, talked on the bus together, said goodbye to each other as we headed to our classes. It was the same thing as every other day.”

You pause for a very long time. Atsumu closes his eyes in a weak attempt at willing away the wave of nausea that rolled over his body.

“She was really sad. For a long time. And no matter how much I tried I couldn’t make her better. Dad tried too, but he wasn’t really sure what he should do. Mom pretended like nothing was going on.”

You sigh deeply.

“I used to cry into my pillow like a selfish brat because I couldn’t make everything better with a snap of my fingers. And she found me crying one night, and she just smiled, hopped into bed with me, and drew shapes with her fingers on my arms until I felt better and fell asleep. She was a really kind person. I miss her so much.”

Atsumu presses a kiss to the side of your neck when you begin to sniffle. You pause for a moment to compose yourself before speaking again.

“Mom always preferred Lily to me. She acted like she didn’t but I knew she did. Lily was friendly, smart, and loved by everyone. She was the kind of person you’d look up to and say ‘wow, I want to be just like her. She’s gonna go far in life.’ Mom preferred her because she was the ideal poster child. She-” you stop to clear your throat and press Atsumu’s hand harder to your chest.

“…Mom hasn’t been the same after what happened. I can’t live up to her expectations so matter how hard I work. It’s even worse since I haven’t brought a friend home in years, but it’s not my fault that everyone wants to treat me like I’m some kind of freak, like the whole world wants to punish me because I wasn’t able to save my sister-“

“Stop.”

Atsumu is just as surprised as you at his little outburst, and he turns cold when his brain catches up and realises he has to say more. You’re still in his arms, waiting with bated breath, and a cold sweat breaks out on the back of his neck despite the blistering summer heat.

“You can’t blame yourself for what happened to your sister.”

Immediately you object.

“But-“

“But nothin’. Stop that,” he says your name so sternly that you freeze and let go of his hand, and there’s a split second of regret until you turn around so that you can gaze up at him. Your eyes are wet, glistening with unshed tears and your nose sounds stuffy but your brows are furrowed with indignation. Your eyes look like deep sorrowful pools, one mistake and suddenly Atsumu could find himself drowning. Still, Atsumu barrels on, feeling that if he stops now, he’ll lose his nerve (and he might lose you).

“You tried your best for your sister and that’s enough. Your sister had her troubles, and she couldn’t fix em on her own either. Nothin’ about that is your fault, so stop feelin’ like you have to carry that weight on your shoulders. If your sister is as good as you say she is, then she knew how hard you worked to make her happier. And she’d probably be as proud of you as I am.”

His thumbs wipe away the tears that have finally rolled their way out of your eyes, his index finger pinning your hair behind your ear. His brown eyes never leave yours, even when the intensity of your gaze makes him feel uncomfortable, like everything that came out of his mouth was pure word-vomit nonsense.

Maybe it was. Atsumu doesn’t have a fucking clue what he should say, doesn’t know if they are going in the right direction or fueling the fires of disaster. He’s trying. He prefers to let actions speak louder than words in this regard. He feels so inadequate in your presence. Is that how you feel around everyone else?

Your mouth quivers.

“I feel so alone without her,” you whisper. Atsumu risks putting a lopsided smile on for you.

“A pretty amazin’ girl once said something along the lines of ‘we’re never alone in this world even when it seems like it’, and that we should leave our burdens where they belong – far back in the past. Pretty solid advice if you ask me. Trust me, this girl is one of a kind, you should listen to her. You’ll never find a person more perfect than her.” 

You stifle a sob and lunge, pressing your lips so fiercely to his he’s almost knocked out by the sudden movement. But he keeps up, going step by step with you, by your side, as you work through your emotions. 

With hands gripping tightly onto the blonde hairs on his head, you pull back, eyes searching his with desperation. Your breath fans out across his face in hurried gasps.

“Make me forget,” you whisper against his lips, and Atsumu thinks he can do that for you, he’d do _anything_ for you, and drinks in your sighs when his hands slip beneath the waistband of your pants.

(His actions speak louder than words, but you think his words were the loudest thing your heart heard in a long time.)


	4. the mistakes i make

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> helloooo, this chapter was originally supposed to be just the one chapter but it was getting long so i said i would split it into 2 chapters (the second of which will hopefully be posted soon enough after this one so yay extra chapter kinda) so please enjoy and i'm sorry if it seems like it ends kinda weirdly! also atsumu and readers relationship is brought to you by the song First Love / Late Spring by Mitski bc it's just :(((( a really good and fitting song for them
> 
> ALSO !! 1000 HITS?? NEARLY 100 KUDOS?? (according to my laptop today anyway!) You people flatter me so much, what was originally meant to be a long one shot ended up being this multi chap mess and i'm so glad people are enjoying the trash i write, i really makes me happy. thank you so much for even showing me the time of day!

Summer ends much like the dying embers of a campfire – what was once a bountiful blaze of laughter, love and good memories, all that remains is a steadily declining burn, the flame weak and threatening to blow out completely once the first day of school starts again.

Atsumu is torn on how he should feel about entering his third, and final, year of school. On the one hand, he’s glad for a return to normality. School recommencing means intense volleyball training, practice games and the competitiveness that comes with fighting for the No.1 spot at Nationals. He’s glad for the opportunity to not be stuck at home listening to his family constantly, to finally be done with school, and move his way up the ladder to the stardom that is being a setter for a national team, if all goes accordingly to plan.

Which it should.

But on the other hand, it’s his _final year_. That means exams and prepping for college (after deciding what the hell he deems good enough to study in college, that is), having his last year playing with his teammates at Inarizaki, and saying goodbye to the friends he made as they go their separate ways in order to take the first steps of their future. 

It also means an end to the most perfect summer he could have ever possibly experienced, and not just because of all the crazy stories he made with his friends that they can enjoy in years to come.  
Summer ending means that this little bubble created with you needs to burst, and he’s not ready for that. Summer ending means that he won’t get to spend time with you as often, and you’ll be just as busy, and this little secret affair becomes all the more difficult for his heart to deal with. He doesn’t want it to be over, wants to stay curled up in bed with you by his side, together, with whispered words and gentle fingers sending him high above the clouds where the real world can’t hurt him. Summer ending means he’ll need to face reality. And Atsumu just isn’t ok with that.

It’s scary, and hits him all at once when he’s lying in bed wide awake at an unreasonable hour a few days before the start of his third year. He wants the summer to be unending, to live in ignorant bliss where he stays young forever, where you never leave his side, where the rays of the sun light up his personal kingdom, the flowers bloom and the birds sing and nobody can tell him anything otherwise. But that’s all a dream, a fantasy, and the reality leaves a sour taste on his tongue. 

He doesn’t sleep much the next few nights.

\---

Atsumu is, unsurprisingly, tired and grumpy the morning school starts again. He wasn’t planning on having dark circles under his eyes as his comeback look, but whatever, he can make it work. His parents joke that it is because after sleeping in for so long he’s not used to waking up early anymore, and Atsumu wishes that was the case.

He spends the train ride to school clutching his phone and staring at the last message you sent him the night before, at a respectable 11pm before you shut your eyes. 

**cute ass:** Good night, Tsumu! See you tomorrow at school, can’t wait! :D 

The eagerness of your text thoroughly confuses him, because someone in your situation should not be excited to return to the hellhole for you that is Inarizaki (and rightfully so). He creases his bushy brows so strongly that Osamu flicks his forehead, a questioning look on his usually apathetic face. 

“What the fuck was that for?” he tuts, rubbing his forehead and glaring daggers at his twin, who frowns in response. 

“I wanna know why you look like yer trying to take a shit on the train, obviously.”

“Fuck off ‘Samu! I’m not in the fuckin’ mood.”

“Clearly.”

Atsumu growls and moves to turn around but Osamu stops him with a light shove to his shoulder.

“Seriously, what’s up with ya?”

Atsumu thinks about ignoring him, but the headache that comes after an argument with his brother is never worth it. He sighs your name in agitation, and Osamu looks mildly surprised.

“Last time I was talking to her she seemed happy to be going back to school. And I’ve no fuckin’ idea why. If I was her I’d be cursin’ the damn place. I just don’t get it.”

“Ah, yeah. I nearly forgot people give her shit in school. Assholes,” his tongue rolls around in his cheek, lidded stare shifting to the rapidly moving world outside the train windows. Atsumu just grunts in agreement, scratching at the thin black hairs on the back of his head resting beneath the bleached strands.

Osamu hums in contemplation before ultimately shrugging.

“Maybe she’s hopin’ something good will happen this year. She seems optimistic like that.”

Atsumu thinks yeah, that’s really optimistic of you to look forward to getting bullied again, but who knows. Maybe something different will happen after all. Atsumu tries not to think too much into it as the train arrives at its intended destination and the pair make their way to the school grounds. 

He spots a few of his friends at the entrance, Suna and Ginjama loitering around the entrance, and Atsumu feels at ease. This is familiar, this is something he looked forward to, no need to start panicking about the end of the year just yet. One step at a time, Atsumu. 

The bell rings, signalling the beginning of the boring bits of school, and the boys make their way to their respective classes, promising to meet up for lunch. A few people grin and give enthusiastic greetings to Atsumu, to which the setter replies half-heartedly and with little interest, and now Atsumu is stepping through the door of the class. His eyes instinctively zip to your seat, and lo and behold, there you sit, looking as beautiful as ever as you daydream with the tiniest of smiles lingering on your face. You look different than how you used to look at school; your hair is brushed out of your eyes and styled just so, your skin is clear and glowing, and you even have a bit of makeup applied to highlight your features.

(Your eyes, he thinks, will forever hold that sadness you cannot shake. They are the window into the soul after all, but he can be grateful that you are not as burdened by heartbreak as you were just a few months ago.)

You look fresh, a stark difference from last year, to be sure. And it looks good on you, even if Atsumu had seen the change happen a while back. It’s enough to draw stares, eyes practically daring to burn holes into your skin. He’s relieved to find they’re more of morbid curiosity than animosity, but he knows, in the back of his mind, it will not last long. The leeches will return to suck the life from your veins, and it almost sets Atsumu into an even fouler mood.

But then, oh, you’re looking at him now, with a grin so bright he’s blinded by it, and his feet move on autopilot until he’s taking his seat next to you as if in a trance by a sirens call. He smirks once he’s close enough, because he just can’t help himself. You look adorable, like a child on their birthday. You’re sitting up straighter, and people are _definitely_ staring now, he can feel it pierce the back of his neck. His legs twitch under his desk. 

“Good morning, Atsumu! Did you get to school okay?” you ask.

Some (mostly the girls, he notes) scowl, bemused at how you’ve garnered the attention of the infamous Miya Atsumu, sending venomous looks in an attempt to break you down. A few, rather rudely, openly laugh in disbelief, a cruelly sharp sound to remind you of what you are to them – a joke, a farce, nothing more than pathetic bug squirming on the ground once they’ve knocked it over. The rest – they whisper. Some attempt to keep quiet, others less so, but they _whisper_ , questioning what is happening before their very eyes:

_what is she doing?_

_wow, is that freak really attempting to talk to Atsumu?_

_ha! I feel like I’m in a dream or something, this can’t actually be happening_

_is he actually going to talk to her? never took Atsumu as one to talk with stray mutts like her_

_think about how in a few years if he makes it big, imagine what the press would do if they found out he was mixing with a girl like her. that’d be so bad for his career!_

_is he seriously going to talk to her? this can’t be good for his image, that girl is just bad luck, she’s not worth it_

The whispering is what bothers him the most, and it begins to crawl over his skin like spiders.

Surely you must hear what they are saying, see what they are doing. But you keep your dazzling eyes on his, that same grin plastered on your face, a determined set to your jaw. You’re actively _ignoring_ what is happening around you, not letting it get to you and ruin what seems to be a good morning for you, a new page in the book of your life. 

He realises it’s because he’s your friend, that with him by your side you suddenly must feel like you’re ten foot tall, that anything is possible now that you have found someone to lean on. And for that Atsumu adores you to the moon and back, admires your newfound strength and tenacity, a new lust for life and happiness, loves that he can be a pillar of strength for you. It’s a big ‘fuck you’ to the bullies in your class.

Atsumu just wishes he had that same backbone in this very instant.

Where you have thickened skin lining your body, Atsumu feels his false armour wither away under the watchful eyes of his peers, and he feels so lame and tiny. On the court, he’s a King, an untouchable source of power, where everyone bows down to his will. But here, right now, he feels closer to an ant, scurrying away from the feet that threaten to crush him. _How fucking pathetic_. 

He wishes he could drink up the potion of courage you seem to have gulped down, because it’s the next few actions that change the course of his life forever, and fills him with enough regret to bury him alive for eternity, lungs collapsing until he can barely take a breath. 

(It could have been avoided entirely, if Atsumu was as brave and invulnerable as he likes to think he is. But he isn’t. He’s a weak little boy, and he makes stupid, _stupid_ mistakes.)

He swallows harshly, the lump in his throat preventing him from saying the things he wants to ( _”Hey, I did thanks. You always look out for me, thank you, wish I could do the same for you, you mean so much to me, everyone in this class are a bunch of assholes, they don’t mean anything, ignore them, like I do, you’re so amazing and brave and-“)._ He clears his throat, all too aware of the awkward silence that seems to stretch on forever. He nods his head jerkily, rushed, and your smile begins to falter, brows slowly coming together in confusion.

_Shit, shit **shit** , why the **fuck** am I doing this? Say something normal._

“Y-Yeah, thanks,” is what he offers, turning into his desk and taking out whatever he needs to the lesson. He knows you’re still staring, and his hands twitch and move rapidly across his desk in a vain attempt to hide the oncoming shakes he _knows_ will make an appearance like what always happens when he’s nervous and guilty as shit. He feels absolutely vile, shutting you out because of, what, a bunch of nobodies in the class?

A bunch of nobodies that unknowingly dictated his life, apparently.

Sure, he always enjoyed the attention and praise he got from people, but when did he depend on their opinions like _this?_

“Oh…that’s good. It’s always so hectic on the later trains, Glad you and Osamu made it on time!"

Your voice is like songbirds chirping on a Sunday morning but it does nothing to ease the black dread sprouting on his heart. He looks at you briefly, offering a weak smile and a noncommittal hum, before turning to look ahead, pretending his attention was grabbed by some guy at the front of the class attempting to dive off the teachers desk.

You shift in your chair, uncomfortable with the abrupt change in Atsumu’s demeanour, and he’s close to killing the person who starts laughing mockingly in your direction, effectively washing away any bravado you originally had and causing you to shrink back into your shell. One of the girls marches up to your desk, no doubt ready to run her mouth and for a split second he feels his legs rise, and hope blooms in his chest that maybe he’s braver than he thought but the arrival of the teacher shuts down the entire classroom, and people return to their seats, to their staring, to their _fucking whispering._

His skin itches, _burns_ but not from the gazes of his classmates. He feels shame flood every crevice of his body, and when he glances at you from the corner of his eye, his heart lurches in pain at the despairingly confused look on your face, looking at him shortly before once more returning your gaze to the outside, like a wounded animal trapped in a cage. He swears to make it up to you later.

He looks outside, too, and catches sight of a butterfly fluttering past the window, wings flapping with a fervour akin to a bird braving a storm. He remembers, all of a sudden, something he had seen on the internet ages ago - the butterfly effect, or whatever.

_‘A tiny butterfly flapping its wings today may lead to a devastating hurricane weeks from now.’_

Yeah, that was it.

Something about that sets him on edge. If only he knew.

\---

Against his better judgement and internal wishes, Atsumu keeps conversation with you at school to a minimum, if at all. He still texts you every night and he thanks his lucky stars that you still respond, ignoring the blatant elephant in room, but when day comes it’s a completely different story, and he’s utterly ashamed of himself.

By Thursday you have decided to give up on talking to him in school altogether.

A part of him is grateful, now you both do not have to suffer the beady eyes of the classroom watching your every move. A greater part of him screams that he is a coward, and he can’t really find it in himself to argue.

When Saturday comes, he is overcome with anxiety. He can barely focus all day, too afraid of the conversation he _knows_ is going to come up because it’s a pretty big fucking deal for him to treat you like a stranger when he’s shown you more of himself than he has with anyone in his entire life. He’s not one for confrontation of this sort – he doesn’t know how he should act or respond when he knows he’s in the wrong, and he’s all the more aware of how much of a child he still is when it comes to handling emotions.

His brother is yet to notice what has been going on. Osamu has been too busy all week to even encounter you or his twin in school outside of volleyball, but he knows he’s in for it from ‘Samu as well if he ever finds out how he’s been acting, and Atsumu’s mood grows all the more sour because of it. God, he really fucked up with this one.

The doorbell rings when Atsumu is doing weekend homework on the kitchen table with Osamu and Yuta (who’s been staring at the magnets on the fridge for far too long instead of his workbook), and his fight or flight responses kick in immediately, legs threatening to bolt up the stairs and lock himself into his room until the end of time. Yuta jumps out of his chair and runs to the door to see his favourite person in the world, but Atsumu’s eyes stay glued to his work, pen digging into the pages of his notebook just that bit harder as he hears his mother call out her goodbyes before exiting the house. Yuta greets you enthusiastically, and you respond in kind. Ok, maybe you’re in a good mood. He can work with that. Weasel his way out of severe punishment that comes with the argument that will inevitably happen later tonight when Osamu leaves to hang out with Kita and Yuta goes to bed.

Any thoughts of skipping the death sentence is tossed into a blender and set on fire for good measure when Yuta leads you to the kitchen.

You look at him with an expression he would only see on his mother when he’s done something particularly bad as a child, so full of frustration and disappointment he can taste the bitterness of it on his tongue. Osamu, thankfully, steals your attention, and when you turn away to converse with him Atsumu feels like he can breathe for a moment. But it doesn’t last long.

You stay in the kitchen with them, helping Yuta with his lessons, and things would seem normal if not for the fact you’ve spoken all but two words to Atsumu, and he can’t blame you. It is a taste of his own medicine, after all, and he can’t swallow it down. How hypocritical.

When he finishes his work Atsumu can’t find it in him to stay in the kitchen any longer, so he retreats to his room to wallow in his misery until the time comes he can corner you before you leave and face this dreaded conversation head on. Osamu stays for a while after him, and his heart aches every time the two of you laugh at something in the kitchen. He wants nothing more than to be down there with you but he doesn’t trust himself to not do something he’ll regret (too late), so shoving his face in his pillow shall have to do for now.

It’s about an hour later when Osamu finally stops talking to you and leaves to meet Kita, and another half an hour before Yuta’s mandatory bedtime his parents put in place comes into effect. He sits upright on his bed, a jittery leg emanating soft pats on the floor as he waits for you to be done with putting Yuta to bed. He can hear you going through the routine, making your way to the bathroom, then to Yuta’s room where you order him with a kind laugh to go to sleep, and he almost loses his nerve when your footsteps slow outside his room, before continuing their journey downstairs where he knows you’ll tidy up a bit (because you’re truly too good for this family), grab your jacket, your keys, and make your way home.

He slinks out of his room and drags his feet down the stairs, stopping on the last step to watch as you go through the motions of preparing to leave. He knows you’re aware he’s watching you, could tell by the way you paused your movements when he cleared his throat, but you don’t meet his eye yet, and he feels just about ready to scream to get your attention. It stays like that for a while, so long he’s sure Yuta is asleep by now.

When the place looks much cleaner than when you had arrived you stall. Your shoulders rise and fall with the deep breath you take, and ever so slowly, you raise your head to look at him. Atsumu thinks he must look as miserable as he feels, because your once neutral stare falls into a look of concern and pity when you take in his expression.

He shifts, the creak of the wood piercing into the silence that smothers the room. He says not a word and simply raises his right hand, fingers wiggling a bit as his arm dangles in front of him. His body says _’please come upstairs, please be close to me’_ where his mouth cannot, and you, well accustomed to his ways, understand what he’s saying immediately. Your own hands twitch at your sides, clenching and unclenching, and eventually grasping his, skin soft and gentle while his is hard and calloused – black and white, night and day, opposites that belong to each other.

He leads you quietly up the stairs, tiptoeing past Yuta’s room and straight into his, shutting the door softly behind him and making his way to his bed. You don’t sit down on the bed when he does, instead standing in front of him and leaving a space that feels much too big for his liking. His mind turns as he wonders how he should start, but you beat him to the punch.

“So are we actually going to talk about how you’ve been acting or are you going to avoid it like you have done with me all week?”

Ouch. Straight to the point. It’s blunt, like ripping off a plaster, but it doesn’t hurt any less. He gulps.

“I just want to start by saying I’m so fuckin’ sorry for the way I’ve been treatin’ ya,” he starts, and restrains himself from wincing when you scoff in response.

“Then why do it? Why the sudden change? Because you were fine literally two days before that. What happened?”

Atsumu truly doesn’t know how to answer you because he doesn’t even know the answer himself, or fully comprehend why he suddenly felt the need to follow the crowd and…bully the one person he probably has come to care about the most in his life.

(The word ‘bully’ make him feel like maggots are crawling over every inch of his skin, but there is no other way to describe what he has been doing. How truly _lame_ of him to stoop lower than low.)

“I-I don’t…I don’t know. I just…people don’t know that you work at my house and…they dunno what happened between us and I guess I kind of just- I like that they don’t know, y’know?”

The words feel foreign on his tongue, probably because they are lies. Sort of. He really does like this safe little space he’s found in you, clutching to it like a child would with a teddy bear when lightning strikes in the distance during a storm. Of course he doesn’t want anyone coming and stomping all over his sanctuary.

(But he wants the right to hold your hand for the world to see, to pull you close and plant a kiss on your cheek when you make him laugh, to take you to the festivals to see the lights dance over your body when he sways with you to the music. He wants, no _yearns_ for that dream, but the demons have snuffed that flame quicker than he could blink, and he only has himself to blame for letting it all go to his mind.)

You process his words, and all at once your face goes blank except for the narrowing of your eyes.

“No. I _don’t_ know, Tsumu. I’m your _friend_ , aren’t I?” you ask, and he’s quick to nod, but the eagerness is gone when you give a look of pure betrayal. “Then why don’t you act like it? Why did you suddenly just act like we barely know each other when you’ve been in my pants for the past three months? Why are you treating me just like everyone else? Are you gonna talk about me behind my back too?”

Your words are biting and harsh and he really does flinch this time because he has _never_ heard you sound so angry at him before. Being compared to the idiots in the class feels like a punch in the face. He looks down at his hands, too ashamed to meet your eye anymore.

All is silent in his room while he mulls over what to say next, but once again you get there before he has a chance to save his skin.

“…it’s because of _them_ , isn’t it?” His head snaps up, and the look of disbelief and disdain on your face knocks the wind out of his chest. Disappointment bleeds through your words. “You can’t seriously tell me that the great, untouchable, popular boy Miya Atsumu is _embarrassed_ to be seen with me? I thought you were above all that.” Your laugh is cold and painful and stops his heart in his chest. “I can’t believe this. I’m going home.”

“No, wait!” He’s quick to move when you turn to head for the door, hands capturing your wrist securely and preventing you from walking out that door and his life. Surprisingly you don’t turn away from his touch, but you don’t look at him either. His mouth opens and closes like a stupid fish as he tries to think of something to say. He brings your hand to his lips, pressing kisses to your knuckles and eventually resting his forehead to the back of your hand.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers. He inhales a shaky breath. “I’m not embarrassed of you, I swear.” Your hand twitches, but he holds on to it tightly. “I’m just…I’m scared of how people see me.”

He doesn’t think those words have ever left his mouth before, but there’s a first time for everything, and you deserve to know the truth, even if it isn’t something you want to hear.

“People always tell me I have to be careful of what I do ‘n say and that I need to watch my fuckin’ back if I want to play for Japan ‘cause my image is everythin’ and I’ll be nothing but trouble for teams in the future if I don’t have a squeaky clean past.”

He pauses to wet his lips that have gone drier than a desert.

“I’m afraid of lettin’ folks down ‘cause I know how they’ll treat me afterwards and for as much shit as I talk I can’t stand up for myself when someone tells me how I should act. And that’s- that’s no excuse for how I’ve been treatin’ ya, I _know_. The shit people give ya is sick, and I’m afraid if I get involved it’ll make things worse for you _and_ me, ‘cause those weirdos make it their mission to ruin lives, and their lil fuckin’ whispering gets on my damn nerves and I just don’t want to deal with it and I’m- I’m scared of _not being strong enough to deal with it and-_ ”

He doesn’t realise he’s out of breath until he takes in a huge lungful of air, like his head is stuck underwater and he can’t reach the surface. As he sits there, trying to rein in his emotions, your pointer finger has begun rubbing the back of his forehead, your nail tickling the bridge of his nose and he’s immensely grateful for the motion. It gives him some indicator that you don’t completely despise him yet.

“…I understand trying to live up to expectations and being anxious of how people perceive you. Trust me, I do.” Your other hand has found its way into the blonde strands of hair on his head, and immediately he sinks into your embrace, hiding his face in your stomach as you gently cradle his head to your torso. Ever so kind, even when he’s being an insufferable bastard.

“…but I don’t see how that stops you from treating me like a decent human being. It’s the right thing to do.”

His eyes clench shut in shame, and he nuzzles your tummy, broad arms wrapping loosely around your legs.

“I know… _I’m so fucking sorry_.”

He sounds downright pitiful, words muted and muffled in the fabric of your top, and you sigh sadly, holding him closer to your body, nails lightly scratching at the base of his neck.

“Look, I…I forgive you,” you say hesitantly, and Atsumu is ready to weep with relief. “I know that you have difficulties of your own and I’ll become even more of a target at school if you suddenly start acting different around me. Against my better judgement, I’ll keep quiet about everything. About me and you, about summer, just like we have been all along. For you.”

He lets out a breath, and he can feel it spread warmth against your shirt.

“But I offer you a bit of advice,” you speak up again, and Atsumu raises his head. You stare down at him, like a queen to a peasant, and smile sadly. “You should prioritise being a nice person than worrying about what others think. That’s what will save you, in the end.”

He gives a small nod, getting lost in your eyes. His fingertips edge their way beneath your shirt, and there’s a knowing gleam in your eye that tells him you know exactly what he’s up to. He raises a brow, and after a long, _long_ pause, ever so slightly you nod, and he lifts your shirt to kiss your bare stomach, lips lingering on any stretch marks he sees. He’s sure to press his lips to every inch of your skin, fingers inserting themselves into the loops of your jeans and pulling marginally.

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise,” he murmurs against the softness of your skin as he works to push your jeans down your legs until you’re hopping out of them quickly. He knocks the back of your knees and you stagger, falling into a straddle position on his lap but he hastily flips your positions and lays you down on his pillows, beginning to trail a line of kisses from your calves to the edges of your underwear, but even they don’t last long before they are flung on the floor. His lips murmur the softest apologies on your skin, and he hopes they sink deep, down to your bones, to your heart.

He wastes no time, and licks a slow, sensuous line up your slit. Your reaction is immediate, sighing sweetly and returning your fingers to his hair, pulling if he hits a particularly sensitive spot.

This is his favourite thing to do. He could eat you out for hours at a time (has done, in the past), savouring your sounds and your taste, making you writhe beneath that cocky mouth of his as he buries his face deep into your cunt.

He is a man with a purpose, and that purpose is to make you feel good, so he gets to work on swirling the flat of his tongue around your clit. You gasp in surprise at the rough movement, and it encourages him to quicken his actions, smirking against your folds when he sees your hand fly to your mouth to stifle your moans. He eases up, gently licking up and down your pussy, his lazy golden eyes locking with yours and groaning at your flushed and lustful gaze.

The vibrations cause your hips to buck and Atsumu rushes to pin your hips down so you don’t knock him out.

“Ya always taste so fuckin’ good, babe,” he moans, and you yelp when his tongue plunges into your core swiftly. A calloused thumb is brought to your swollen clit, rubbing slow but hard as he works his tongue in and out of you at a rapid pace, the actions so contradictory all you can do is moan and squirm beneath his hold.

You taste like the sweetest honey, a taste so divine it makes his eyes roll back in pleasure, his hips bucking against the mattress of his bed for friction against his growing erection. But he can’t get greedy.

You need to cum for him first before he even thinks about himself, and he hasn’t much time before people start arriving at the house again. The hand holding your hip slides up your body to link his fingers with yours, squeezing tightly, and you don’t let go when his grip loosens, and neither does he.

He presses his thumb harder to your clit, forgoing the lazy circles and instead rubs quick and harsh, and you _mewl_ in delight, back arching off the bed. He knows you’re close, can feel the urgency of your approaching orgasm with every clench of your walls around his tongue, and he doubles his efforts, pinching your clit between his fingers one last time before-

You gasp so deliciously, legs shaking around his head, breath coming in fast as you ride through your orgasm. He laps up your juices fervently, like a dying man offered the last few precious drops of water in his life. It’s a moment until you sink like jelly atop his sheets, basking in post-coital bliss, eyes shut, and he takes note of how perfectly peaceful you look in moments like this, not a care in the world, and it’s a better look on you than the face you tend to wear in the day.

Your eyes reopen when he crawls over you, licking and nipping the crevice of your neck, and he hums in joy when you wrap your arms around his frame and hold him close. As he grinds against your thigh like a dog, you give him one last warning:

“This doesn’t make things right.”

And he agrees, but his mind is too hazy with lust, too clouded with relief that your earlier conversation is finished with minimal damage, to truly absorb your words into his brain at the moment. And when you cup his erection through his jeans, he forgets what transpired this evening altogether.

He thinks of it later, when he sleeps alone in bed, the traces of warmth you left on the sheets long gone.

He knows it’s not enough. He does. But-

He’s trying.

He really fucking is.

(Maybe not hard enough, Miya Astumu.)


	5. the consequences wrought

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! this sorted ended up taking way longer than i thought it would but it's here! (i partially blame that on animal crossing and pokemon but also babysitting my crazy nephew lol) also i just want to really quickly say that all the lovely comments and kudos left on my story really mean so much to me, it's such important feedback and gives me the drive to write more! i just love interacting with everyone and hearing their thoughts on the story, so please keep them coming! i love you all!

The Monday after the argument was a tense sort of normality. 

He continued much like before, giving greetings and pleasantries to you like usual, but you don’t attempt to converse with him, and his emotions are terribly confused.

(His mind says _‘it’s best for both of us, I’ll ignore you and you ignore me’_ but his heart screams _’look at me like I’m the only person in the world’_. But this was his idea to begin with, so he needs to push down whatever he’s feeling and move on.) 

He knows you’re still upset over his actions, but when he texts you during lunch about it you reply _’it’s ok, I’m fine with it’_ , and he doesn’t want to push you further, so he drops it and takes it for face value.

And so, the wheels of life keep turning. It’s radio silence in school, and loud, boisterous laughter when the weekend hits. The contradictory nature of it would give anyone whiplash. 

(You once described yourself as his dirty little secret one Tuesday afternoon after risking a sneaky visit to the Miya household, and it made his whole body freeze, because he’s pretty sure that’s what you say about someone who’s a side piece, but he laughs it off awkwardly, missing the hurt that flashes in your eyes at his nonchalant response.)

Surprisingly (or rather, unsurprisingly, because his brother isn’t aware of what has been happening and has the common sense to treat you as he always does), Osamu has been the one to openly speak with you when he sees you in school, and all it takes is half a glance to see how absolutely _elated_ you look that at least the other Miya twin has made time for you. 

His twin ignores any stupefied looks thrown in his direction, maybe he doesn’t even notice them, and just continues talking to you as normal, as he should. The school definitely whispers about Osamu’s sudden interest in the resident ‘freak’ of Inarizaki High, some have even spoken to Atsumu about it, but the blonde just shrugs, says nothing, and scowls when no one sees. 

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t jealous of his brother’s uncaring attitude, a feeling so strong he finds himself snapping at Osamu more than usual, much to his twin’s bemusement, and he isn’t proud of all the petty arguments that have come up recently. And he knows that if asked about it Osamu will let people know that you’ve been their little brother’s babysitter for past few months and that causes even more stress and anxiety to flood over Atsumu’s body, and-

Seriously all of these emotions are giving him fucking headaches and a part of him wishes he could go back to when all that mattered was volleyball. (But he throws away that thought every time because meeting you was the best thing that could have ever happened.)

He said he’d try for you, and he meant it. 

While he doesn’t change his tune immediately, Atsumu has been subtly integrating any sort of interaction with you he can over the past couple of weeks. It’s nothing major, picking up a dropped pencil here, asking for some notes he missed there, you know, basic stuff. He asks your opinions on things, asks for help with his work, distracts the occasional bully when they get too close. 

(His particular favourite memory is when Yua, one of your main tormentors, stalks her way up to your desk when you’re eating for her daily dose of being a dickhead, and starts spewing off whatever shit her wheel of insults landed on today. Most often, and today is no different, it seems to be about your appearance. Atsumu reckons it’s because, personally, Yua is as appealing as a dog’s asshole, could never even come close to looking as amazing as you do, and feels the need to bring someone down to her level of ugliness. So of course, with fire in his veins, Atsumu does what he does best – acts like an even bigger asshole.

“Oi, oi, Zua, can you keep your bullshit down? Yer bein’ _very_ loud, and I can’t concentrate on readin’ my manga with yer voice piercin’ my ears, y’know? Move along, been lookin’ forward to readin’ this all week.” He smiles at her, but it’s empty and holds something darker in it. Yua splutters, doesn’t bother correcting her name, can’t formulate a sentence, and turns redder than a ripe tomato. A few people laugh and cheer at Atsumu’s attitude, and it’s cruel, but the blonde can’t really find it in him to care, not when the attention on you has been successfully diverted. His eyes move lazily back to the pages in front of him.

“Oh, and maybe wash up or sumn, your face is gone all splotchy and weird,” he finishes, and allows a smirk to grow on his face when she storms off in a huff, her little minions following in tow after the initial shock wore off. He risks a glance in your direction, and grins when you can’t wipe the smile off your face.)

He tries, and you recognise his efforts, all the while respecting his boundaries and insecurities because you’re just _perfect_ like that (too perfect for him). And for once things seem to be going on the right path for once. He’s even beginning to enjoy the ride. 

(It wasn’t enough, in the end. He should have paid more attention to that damned butterfly.)

So naturally, of course, the world deems it necessary to make everything go to shit.

\---

So, here’s how the beginning of the end comes about.

The first domino falls unexpectedly, on a day one could easily forget, when days easily blend together like paint on a canvas.

It’s mid-January, and the world is painted in the many hues winter can bring - the white of snow, the grey of the sky, the black of the trees. It is nice, in a way. Atsumu much prefers the vibrancy that summer brings, but he can appreciate when the world has entered a state of icy peace.

He lays on the couch in the living room, post nap haze dulling his senses. His hair is a mess of cowlicks, and his eyes are close to shutting as he stares numbly at the TV. The room is warm, cosy, and you sit with Yuta by the coffee table, watching him play on the new Switch he had gotten for Christmas and chiming in with encouragements whenever he lost a game. 

Again – it’s a peaceful day, unsuspecting, which makes it all the more devastating when Atsumu recalls it months from now.

He hears a light laugh from the other side of the room, and the blonde has to practically _drag_ his eyes over to where you’re sitting, he’s that lazy. 

“Enjoy the nap? Your hair looks awful, by the way. Not looking the best right now,” you smile when Yuta giggles.

Atsumu rolls his eyes. He smacks his lips rather obnoxiously, hand scratching at his stomach.

“I dunno what yer talkin’ bout,” he yawns, and stretches his back much like a cat. “I have model agencies at my feet daily beggin’ me to pose for their pictures. Yer just jealous.”

“Ah, I’m sure. But I’m not sure if adverts for diarrhoea medicine count as a modelling career, Tsumu,” you grin mischievously, and Atsumu refrains from letting a smirk grow on his face.

“Funny, you’re a real comedian, y’know that? Don’t come crying to me when you get the shits and dunno what to buy,” he laughs when you both yell _’language!’_. “And I _would_ have had a nice snooze but your annoyin’ voices were bleeding through into my dreams.”

“So you were dreaming about me?” you smirk at him over Yuta’s oblivious head, and Atsumu feels a flutter low in his abdomen. The tips of his ears turn scarlet.

“Yeah. Twas more of a nightmare, really. I was bout to become wrestling champion of the world when you screamed at me from the crowd to clean the food off my plate. So, nothin’ new there. Still annoyin’ as ever.”

He delights in the hearty laugh you give. “Hey, I’m teaching you good manners and hygiene practices.”

“Whatever,” he grumbles. Osamu makes an entrance, trundling into the room and flopping into the cushions of the armchair, bundling up in his hoodie. The kid can never stay warm during winter, no matter how heated the house is. Atsumu is pretty sure it’s because he’s a cold-blooded snake in disguise, the loser.

“What’s this?” Osamu asks, thanking you with a smile when you pass the blanket you have around you over to him, insisting he take it.

“Tsumu’s being stupid,” Yuta says distractedly. He gives a whine when the game over music plays, and Atsumu scowls at the youngest Miya sibling.

“As usual, thought something interestin’ happened. Where’s the jellybeans?” Osamu wraps himself in the blanket, while Atsumu glares at his twin.

“Fuck you,” the blonde grunts, throwing the bag of jellybeans with force at his brother, who, rather irritatingly, catches the bag with ease.

“Language,” the three of you drone. Atsumu’s scowl grows deeper.

“Yer all so lame.”

“Not any lamer than you’re being right now, Tsumu,” you beam, and he’d yell at you if it didn’t mean you’d pout and look at him sadly which always ends up with him buying you food and well, Atsumu’s running a bit short on cash this week.

“You’re a traitor,” is what he settles on, and turns back to the TV to avoid the puppy dog eyes he _knows_ you’re sending his way.

“I’m hurt, Tsumu. Truly.”

“Speakin’ of hurt,” Osamu says around a mouth full of treats, and the chewing sounds really piss of Atsumu. “The boys on the team are real hurt they haven’t met _you_ yet.”

He says it so casually, without care, but if Atsumu was sleepy before, he is definitely awake now. His eyes, wide, dart over, watching as you look at Osamu in curiosity, who in turn just chews thoughtfully, both oblivious to the growing panic Atsumu feels steadily rising from the tips of his toes to the top of his head.

“Who? Me?” you say, rather dumbfoundedly, and Osamu snorts.

“Who else? Been tellin’ them about you, they wanna know who the mystery woman babysitting Yuta is. Well, that ain’t completely true, they wanna see my new friend, I guess.”

He’s been telling the team about you? Why the _fuck_ did Atsumu not know about this? Surely someone would have said it to him? He fucking lives with Osamu, after all.

(Maybe they didn’t bother, because Atsumu was too busy looking ahead while they stood behind in the dust.)

So, the team know about your existence, outside of school anyway. Which means that they know that Atsumu would know you, because you know Osamu, which means the team knows you’re friends with the twins, which means that his classmates might know the truth, _which means-_

Stop. Head hurting. Too much thinking. Missing the conversation here.

“You talk about me?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?”

You look at your lap bashfully, grinning to yourself, fingers fiddling with the ends of your sweater. Yuta remains absorbed in his game, missing the conversation taking place completely.

“I don’t remember this,” Atsumu keeps his face carefully blank. Osamu shrugs, popping another jellybean into his mouth.

“That’s because ya never listen, idiot. I’ve been talking bout her to the guys for weeks. They wanna meet her. Kita said he wanted to catch up, said he recognises ya from middle school.”

“Oh!” you face brightens in recognition. “Kita Shinsuke? I think I remember him! Pretty sure he was in the year above mine. Quiet guy, with the cool hair?”

Osamu offers a scoff and a shake of his head, lopsidedly smiling at your confusion. “Cool isn’t the word I’d use, but yeah, that’s him.”

How in the hell did Atsumu miss this? Was he really that self-absorbed? _Shit._ This doesn’t seem to be talking any good turns. Something wretched and worrying creeps into his body, its claws gripping tightly onto his lungs until he feels like he can’t take a breath. His hands, large and powerful, tap nervously on his stomach.

“Was thinkin’ you could come to our next game, talk to them before it and maybe watch us play if you wanna stick around,” the ashy haired brother asks, much to Atsumu’s horror. You look so damn _happy_ at the invite, and it breaks Astumu’s heart to have to cut you down because he can’t overcome his insecurities. He just – he needs to stop this, because he’s disgustingly selfish.

If only he could have seen the forest for the trees, he wouldn’t have been so eager to burn the whole damn woods down.

“Yeah, I would lo-“

“I don’t really think that’s her scene, Samu. She wouldn’t wanna come,” Atsumu cuts in, wilts under the annoyed look you send his way. Osamu’s eyes narrow, setting the bag of jellybeans down on the coffee table slowly with a resounding thump, thick brows furrowed.

“Think she can speak for herself, bro.”

The air turns tense, and he knows he’s going to get an earful from his twin later tonight. And you. _Great._ Still, Atsumu carries on, adamant about keeping everything a secret for just that little bit longer. Stupid Osamu, ruining everything as always.

“Just saying, don’t see her having much interest in the game. And I dunno why the team wanna meet her, they don’t really like people anyway, she’s gonna feel uncomfortable.”

“I’ll be fine, Atsumu. And I do want to see you both play. I haven’t seen any of your games since our first year.”

He looks unconvinced, so you send him a stern look, strong, determined, and Atsumu begs, prays, that he could be as brave as you. It would make life a hell of a lot easier.

“Think you should sit this one out. ‘Sides, there’ll be other games. Tis only a practice game, you won’t be missing an-"

“I’m going. You always talk about the boys on the team, it’ll be really exciting to meet them! I-If they don’t mind, of course,” you cut in.

Osamu smiles, but Atsumu can’t even fake one. He’s too wound up. His twin turns his attention to you, effectively cutting Atsumu out of the discussion.

“Wouldn’t have asked if they did. I’ll let ya know when you should come see us, we usually have warm ups before…”

Atsumu tunes out the conversation, brushes off any questions about his well being when he sits in sullen silence, ignores the looks sent his way when he rises from the couch and storms his way to his room. He feels sick, nerves shot to hell. He’s not ready, he’s not ready, _he’s not ready_.

(This is your own fault, his mind points out. This could have been avoided if you were _stronger._ )

The ‘game over’ music echoes out in the living room.

\---

The dominoes of disaster are crashing down, getting faster and faster, when the day of the practice game finally rolls around.

Atsumu cannot concentrate to save his life. So far today he has had a screaming match with his brother at least three times today, has been reprimanded by his coach nearly every five minutes for spacing out or setting terribly, and is growing sick of the stares Kita has decided to fixate on him like it’s going out of fashion.

But his hands are sweaty as shit, his mind is flashing a mile a minute and he feels the recognisable taste of vomit at the back of his throat. He’s fucking _nervous_ , and he has absolutely no right to be.

You’re set to arrive any second now. You had sent a text to Osamu that you were on your way, just taking your time to build up the nerve to meet them, and since then Atsumu’s eyes have been flickering to the door more times than he can count. He’s so distracted that Osamu felt the need to spike a ball into his face, but before he can tackle his twin to the ground and choke him out, the doors of the gym creak open, and the sound sends shivers down his spine.

There you stand, all wrapped up in a woolly jumper, wringing the strap of your shoulder bag so roughly, yet you smile shyly when Osamu leads the team over to greet you. But Atsumu’s legs feel like jelly, and he can’t think about anyone other than himself at that moment, and how he feels like he might throw up right here, right now.

(But isn’t that what he always does? Selfish, selfish, _selfish_.)

They greet you one by one, making their way down the line and you return the gesture in kind, saying how nice it is to meet them, and he knows you mean it. When it reaches Atsumu his mouth dries, so he offers a nod and a wave of his hand. Osamu smacks the back of his head.

“The hell? Cat gotcha tongue, dumbass? Why you so quiet?”

He lands a swift punch to Osamu’s stomach in retaliation, and his neck grows warm as he feels the team stare at their interaction.

“Glad yer here,” he mumbles, cheeks roaring red with embarrassment. He expected you to smile at his efforts like you usually do - but you don’t. You just look at him, through him, and nod slowly.

“Thanks,” you say. And leave it at that. And now a new entire type of anxiety has reared its head and Atsumu is sent falling backwards into a dark hole of stress. His brows furrow in confusion, lips turned downward, but Kita enters his line of vision, stopping anything he was planning on doing. Kita addresses you with a bow, how gentlemanly of him.

“I’m not sure if you remember me, but we attended the same middle school. I was a year above you. It’s good to see a familiar face,” he says, and you smile warmly at him.

“I do remember you! People always spoke about how skilled at volleyball you were, and I agree with them. I saw a few of your tournament games with my sister many years ago. Glad to see you stuck with it in high school, it would’ve been a shame to let your talent go to waste."

Kita, for all his stoicism and formality, looks shocked, and vaguely bashful, with a light flush making its way up his neck, and Atsumu can almost see every single pair of eyebrows that form the team fly upwards.

“Oh...thank you. I appreciate your kind comments,” he pauses, mulling over what to say next. “I was very sorry to hear what happened to your sister. I was unable to give my condolences at the time, and it wouldn’t be right if I never said anything. I’m sure it must have been...more difficult than words can say.”

Atsumu stills, awaits the breakdown that should arrive any minute, but with the grace and maturity only someone like you could muster, you offer Kita the kindest smile, eyes dulling only a fraction at the reminder of your sister.

“Thank you. That means a lot, and I’m sure she would appreciate it as well. It was hard, I won’t lie, but I look forward to each new day like never before. For her,” your hands are clasped in front of you, and he can see how awkward you look at your little admission, but Kita smiles one of those rare, wide smiles, and you loosen up.

“That’s very brave, and worthy of respect and praise from everyone. I hope that the team can provide some support should you ever need it,” with that said, he bows deeply, and the rest of the team follow suit, the twins included, because he’s damn right. No matter what, the shit you go through would be enough to crush anyone, but instead you have come out flying high, like a phoenix rising from the ashes, as cheesy as it is to say. When they rise, Atsumu can see you look embarrassed and pleased at the same time, flustered by the display from the team.

“O-Oh, thank you! You really don’t have to do that, that’s very kind!”

You laugh awkwardly, and Atsumu pipes up quietly from where he stands at the end of the line.

“Least we can do. ‘Tis a lotta shit to deal with.”

It really is.

That earns him a miniscule, lopsided smile. It’s the small victories.

Aran steps forward, his rich, dark skin shining from sweat built up practicing. He smiles politely.

“Hey, I’m Aran Ojiro. It’s nice to finally meet you, Osamu has told me a lot about you.”

Has he now? The blondes eyes drift to stare _hard_ at Osamu, whose face is painted with its usual neutrality, but he’s shuffling awkwardly in place, restless. Hmm.

You blink, eyebrows inching their way up your forehead.

“Has he? All good things I hope,” you begin to scratch at the back of your head bashfully. Aran chuckles, and his eyes close when he offers you a reassuring smile.

“Trust me, it was only good things.”

“He doesn’t shut up talking about you,” Suna mumbles. His narrow eyes assess you. “Pretty sure he has something different to say everyday. Kind of annoyi-”

“Oi, stop runnin’ yer mouth,” grumbles, Osamu. He does a good job of keeping an indifferent aura about him, but anyone with an eyeball and half a brain cell can tell he’s becoming flustered. He shoves Suna who tuts in irritation. “She’s my friend, it’s normal to talk ‘bout her. I talk about you sorry lot to her a lot, too.”

(Atsumu feels like someone had taken a large chunk of his memory out and crushed it up into tiny pieces, because he does not Osamu saying anything about you. Shit, he really needs to get his head out of his ass.)

“Well isn’t that sweet,” Suna drawls with a miniscule eye roll. Osamu settles for scowling at him.

Something dark begins to fester deep in the crevices of Atsumu’s heart. His fists clench at his sides. He keeps his gaze anywhere, as long as it’s not on Osamu. He doesn’t like this one bit./p>

“When does the game start?” you ask when it becomes silent. Kita is the one who answers.

“Soon. It begins shortly after the opposing team arrives, which should be in about-” he glances at his watch, “half an hour or so. You’re more than welcome to stay in the gym until then, if you would like. People do it all the time.”

As if suddenly remembering where you are, you glance around the gym to look over at the stands where, like Kita said, some people have gathered to watch the boys warm up. You bob your head up and down.

“Ok, I’ll do that! I guess I should go and pick a good seat before the adoring fans make their way in.”

The team laugh, and Atsumu wonders if your face will hurt later from how much you’re smiling since you walked into the gym. He’s happy that you’re getting the good attention you deserve. Just maybe… _too_ much attention.

“That would be wonderful,” Kita bows low once more, and the team follow suit. “Thank you for supporting us!”

“I-It’s no problem! Good luck today!”

The boys filter out onto the court once more, aware of the impatient glare the coach is sending their way, but the twins and Kita remain behind for a moment. Kita catches your attention just as you’re walking away. You turn around with a curious look.

“I was wondering if maybe we could meet sometime later, or another day when you are free, just to talk about our old middle school. Not many people from middle school went to Inarizaki, so it would be nice to talk about old memories with someone familiar.”

Atsumu’s thick brows rocket to his hairline. Well, aren’t _you_ popular today? Kita waits patiently for your response while Atsumu bristle’s beside him. A shadow of something Atsumu can’t quite discern passes over your face, so quick that if you blinked you wouldn’t even know it happened, before you muster up a small smile.

“That would be great, Kita, thank you.”

With that, Kita nods in farewell and takes off towards the court. The twins linger. Osamu breaks the silence first.

“Sorry about Suna, he can be a wise-ass when he wants.”

You laugh. “It’s fine, Samu. He’s probably teasing. I’m sure he means well."

He hums, distracted, gazing at the strap of your bag. Atsumu feels his blood begin to boil.

“Well are you gonna fuckin’ say anythin’ else or are you done here?”

Osamu sends him a dangerous glare, and Atsumu couldn’t care less. He just wants him out of his sight.

“Fuck off pig-shit, or I’m gonna break your neck.” He turns his head to you again. “Sorry, we better go, see you around. Thanks for comin’”.

His hand squeezes your shoulder as he passes, and Atsumu watches the motion with disdain, his lips turned down so hard he’s pretty sure it’ll stay that way forever, which is a damn shame because his smile was a winner.

Something light touches the back of his hand. He jerks his head downwards, to see you’ve begun writing random letters into his skin. The tension in his shoulders starts to ease immediately, and he shuts his eyes closed before opening them to see you again.

You give him a smile, a genuine one, and his heart thuds in his chest.

“Thanks,” he whispers, fingers brushing yours momentarily before pulling away. You return your hand awkwardly to your side, clear your throat.

“I’ll head to the stands. Good luck, I can’t wait to see you play.” He offers a smirk, but it feels flat on his face with how nervous he really is inside.

"Save that luck for the other team, they need it more with me around."

With the whole ‘meeting the team’ fiasco over (for now), Atsumu can breathe, taking a deep breath of air into his lungs, and exhaling sharply. Knowing that you’re watching him play fills him with a nervous sort of excitement, and he prefers this to the near overwhelming feeling of dread that he just can’t shake since you walked through those gym doors.

He tries to bury it deep in the furthest parts of his mind. His gut instinct is almost never wrong, but...

Maybe it’s nothing.

\---

It was definitely _not ‘nothing’._

The roar of the crowd threatens to burst Atsumu’s eardrums when the referee blows the final whistle, signalling the end of the match and a hard earned win for the Inarizaki High Volleyball Club.

Atsumu felt off his game, Kita told him as much, and he can safely say the reason for that boils down to you. He could feel the weight of your stare on him throughout each set, like a hawk zeroing in on a weak, defenseless mouse, and he’d be lying if the sweat dripping down the back of his neck was purely from the strenuous movement done on the court.

Still, a part of him kept up the facade, never let his nerves show to the best of his ability, and played up the cockiness for the crowd. Might as well impress.

His eyes rove over the sea of blurry faces until it hits its mark - there you sit, on the outer edges of the stands, grinning so widely that it shines like a lighthouse standing in the darkest of seas, and his heart gravitates towards the affection he can feel emanating from it.

It still isn’t enough to stop the dread churning in his stomach, and he really can’t tell why he’s feeling so _worried._

(But he’s about to find out, isn’t he?)

The crowd begins to disperse, many making their way onto the court to greet the players personally and congratulate them on their victory. Atsumu only half listens to the sentiments shared, feels irked at the copious amounts of hands clapping his already aching back and shoulders, and wants to shake the fangirls off quicker before he says something impolite like _’fuck off’_ and has a bunch of crying girls at his feet. He could do without the headache.

His eyes continuously drift to where you are gradually making your way down the stairs, letting the other attendees go first until eventually you find yourself in a slow pace with the rest, descending and planning on making your way back to the team. 

He gets lost for a moment, watching you _watching him_ , smiling for him, only him, and he can almost forget the world around him, if only for a millisecond of bliss. It’s just you and hi-

“Hey.”

The curt greeting catches him off guard, the person even more so.

Before him stands a girl - no, that seems too immature, a _woman_ , perhaps, all long legs and black hair curled to perfection. Her entire look is immaculate, too immaculate for whatever Hyogo could offer the world, and the confidence and strong air that oozes from her smirk is enough to rival Atsumu’s faux tenacity.

He blinks, dumbfounded, and then squints his eyes as he thinks about this oddly familiar face. He vaguely remembers her as a new student, transferred from Tokyo, some kid model that was in ‘like, all the major fashion magazines in Japan like oh my _gosh_. Ah, he heard about her. Can’t remember her name, though. His eyes flicker to you once more, still smiling, still making your way down the steps.

“Hey yerself,” he drawls, not really interested in whatever this chick has to say. He’s even _less_ interested in the little entourage that surrounds this person, all sly grins and hushed words. They look like they could never be friends with a person like her. Maybe that’s why they follow her like ugly little ducklings. The lost follow the wrong crowds.

(And oh, how tragic that is for everyone.)

You’re getting closer now, sifting through the bodies expertly, invisible. His eyes stay trained on you, until they’re stolen once more. How annoying.

“You play really well. And I think you’re pretty hot. Want to go on a date with me tomorrow?”

Atsumu blinks once. Twice. And once more for good measure. Shit, were all Tokyo girls like this? He’d find this kind of forwardness in a woman attractive if he wasn’t already head over heels for someone else, someone who happens to be getting closer and closer. No one on the team notices you yet - Osamu is occupied with humouring his homeroom teacher and Kita is speaking with the captain from the opposing side. This woman is a thorn in his side; he needs to get rid of her _now._

She smirks, like it’s the highest offer she can bestow upon someone, and maybe in her experience it is. The ugly ducklings giggle behind her like idiots, grinning bashfully behind perfectly manicured hands, and Atsumu has to fight to keep the disgust from flooding his face. With the way one of the girls gulps, he doesn’t think he’s done a particularly good enough job. Oh well.

Atsumu begins to refuse because the only person on his mind is you, and he doesn’t even know this girls fucking name -

_“Uh, look, sorry but I-”_

-and then the dreaded, overwhelming and mind consuming whispering starts -

_i totally saw this coming eventually_  
_damn i wish that was me, she’s so mysterious._  
_now that’s what you call a power couple! they’d be so great together!_  
_he’d be stupid to turn her down. I heard she’s crazy in bed_  
_why is he just standing there?_  
_wow, never thought i'd see the day Miya Atsumu freezes up!_  
_what is he doing? say yes!_

-then the whispering turns into actual things spoken directly _to_ him-

_holy shit Miya! the hottest girl in school is asking you out? Right on man!_  
_hey man, say something to the poor girl!_  
_dude close your mouth, ha! save the drooling for after the date_  
_where are you gonna take her? you have to be romantic for a high class girl like that_  
_gosh, your children are seriously gonna be the best looking ever, wooow_  
_hey, don’t be rude, accept her offer_  
_you’re not seriously gonna be lame and say no to a girl like that, are you?_  
_damn, if you reject her here in front of all these people, that would be low, even for you_  
_don’t embarrass her, say yes!_  
_say yes!_  
_say yes!_  
_say yes!_

-Atsumu can’t breathe.

His head aims to go above the throng of people, but no matter how deep the inhale, it’s never enough to bring him back from the brink of falling over the edge of self destruction. He opens his mouth. His hands grip his shorts. His skin goes cold.

It’s been a solid minute since she asked. But it feels like hours.

The black haired girl stares at him, and like an ugly, broken mirror, he sees a crack in her own mask of confidence, and this spurs the mob on further as they nudge his back painfully and they scream their ‘support’ in his ear and-

“U-Uhm, sur-.”

He doesn’t even get to finish the sentence. It’s chaos around him as everyone tugs him this way in celebration. One of her goons hands him a piece of paper with her name on it, but he barely feels it slip into his fingers. She walks out with her nose held high, and Atsumu feels like puking, preferably on her. Atsumu likes to blame his problems on everyone else, but the problem is _him._

_It’s always been him._

His head numbly turns in search of you. He‘s confused when he can’t find you on the stairs by the stands, until his eyes dip downward and-

Oh, there you are. Standing quietly to the side, like you’ve always done. His heart plummets to the floor of the gym.

He can no longer concentrate on the world around him, focuses on you, only you, and how absolutely _betrayed_ you look right now. Yep, there’s definitely something rising up his throat and threatening to spill his guts all over the floor. Your eyes glisten with tears, and your face turns red with anger, and your fists clench by your sides, and you’re turning away, running away, running out of the gym.

_(No, no, **no** , this wasn’t supposed to happened, stupid, fucking idiot Atsumu, you worthless piece of shit-!)_

He wants to follow you, but his legs stay frozen in shock.

(He recalls the conversation he had with you about being alone. He wonders if you’ve ever felt as alone as he does right now. Wonders if you felt like you were the only one drowning as everyone else is breathing just fine around you. Maybe that’s how you feel at this very moment. He’s not sure if you’ve ever felt such strong self-loathing and hatred as he does right now, because he wants to peel off his skin, feels like it doesn’t belong to him, wants to throw it away and burn it in a fire and begin anew. Life doesn’t offer many chances like that, unfortunately.)

The final domino crashes to the floor with a deafening boom.

Nobody is there to pick up the pieces.

\---

It was always said, whether from religious scriptures, or from the mouths of mad men, that the world will end; typically in a burning blaze of hellfire, or the destructive force of a meteorite disintegrating life on earth as we know it, or perhaps even the brutality that mankind itself shows to each other, that the true enemies are ourselves, and no one else.

Atsumu thinks it’s all bullshit.

Because the way the world ends, the way _his_ world ends, is simply from the parting of the most perfect pair of lips he ever kissed.

He had sprinted through the crowd of people in the gym after you, but it was like moving through tar - slow, difficult, and he was two seconds away from hauling people to the ground in an effort to catch up to you. And when he _finally_ reached the doors of the gym, you were nowhere to be found. Osamu had not seen you, Kita had not seen you, _nobody_ saw you leave, saw where you went, and asking people was fruitless, because you might as well have not existed to them, like a ghost that roams the hallways.

For a week since the day of the game, Atsumu had to suffer through a suffocating silence. You never answered any of his texts, declined all of his calls, barely even replied to Osamu when Atsumu snuck a look over his brothers’ shoulder when he saw your name pop up on his phone. Hell, you even refused to come downstairs and meet him when he got so desperate and came knocking on your door, your bitch mothers’ sneers be damned. He’d sit through five hours of her insulting him if it meant even five minutes with you. Worst of all, you weren’t in school, either. For the entire week, your seat was terribly empty, and he felt your missing presence like an itch that he couldn’t scratch. (Perhaps, the saddest thing was that nobody in class even realised you were missing except for him.)

You avoided him at all costs.

Much like the last argument, Atsumu knew he would have to confront you on Saturday. 

(It’s always Saturday, isn’t it? When you first became friends, when you first kissed, when you first slept together, so many firsts. Inexplicably to Atsumu, this one feels like it will be the last Saturday, but he brushes that thought off faster than he can blink because when he thinks too much, it ends in disaster.)

Atsumu has a plan to get you alone with him on Saturday. He convinced Yuta and his friends that having a sleepover at someone else’s house would be so totally cool and super fun, so Yuta practically begged on his knees to his parents who agreed after the 100th _pretty please_ just to get him to stop whining. Osamu was persuaded into showing Aran the entire Lord of the Rings movie franchise because Atsumu just had to remind him of how great they were, so that saved Atsumu the stress of shoving his brother out of the picture while he figured out what the fuck to say to you. (Honestly, though, it wasn’t that hard. Osamu looks for any excuse to bust out the trilogy.)

There was a split second of fear when his parents made a comment about telling you that babysitting was called off, but Atsumu swore to them that he’d text you about it.

He doesn’t like the lying, but, hey, desperate times, right?

D-Day lands sooner than he wants but he can’t stand wandering around in the dark like a lost child. He needs to explain himself, that it wasn’t his intention to hurt you. You’d surely understand like you always do, right?

(Naivete truly is a curse, because there is no undoing what Atsumu has done.)

He sits in silence in the living room. There isn’t a sound to be heard, except for the occasional shaking breath he exhales. The room feels dead, does nothing to ease the worry stirring in his gut, and the silence is truly deafening but when you finally, _finally_ ring the doorbell, it’s like a siren blasted into his ears.

Part of him expected you to skip babysitting this weekend but he’s all too aware of how much you adore Yuta and can’t bear to upset him. Because you always put others before yourself. Atsumu would do well to take a page from your book, wouldn’t he?

He sees the silhouette of your body through the glass of his front door, and he loses his nerve.

Shit.

He does _not_ feel good.

But he knows it’s better to face the music than to turn it off. Ok, deep breath in.

He opens the door.

There you stand before him, looking miserable and so tired, but your eyes widen when you see him. Your body tenses, like a deer caught in the headlights, but then you make to flee, turning quickly and getting ready to bolt down the pathway despite the treacherous ice that causes you to stumble.

He catches you before you can fall, hands gripping underneath your armpits and steadying you, keeping you at a distance but never quite letting go. You refuse to look at him. He frowns deeply, licks his lips.

“I want to talk,” he says. Immediately you’re on the defensive, scoffing and attempting to walk away but he stops you, grabbing a hold of your hand instead. Your hand twitches in his grip, like you’re ready to rip it away from him.

“That’s funny. I’m getting a weird sense of deja vu, like we’ve done this before,” you hum in thought mockingly, and Atsumu knows that you’re working through your emotions, that you have every right to be angry, but the longer this goes on the more nauseous he begins to feel.

“Look, can we not - can we not do this out here?” he pleads, and it’s then you turn to him, with a look of pure vitriol that he blinks in surprise. 

“My bad, wouldn’t want anyone to see you hanging out with the freakshow, would we? How shameful,” you spat in return, and it’s enough to make him flinch in surprise. You’re like a completely different person right now, like someone replaced you, swapped you out for an intensely bitter and cruel shell of a person, and Atsumu doesn’t have to think too hard about what hands could have possibly reshaped you into this vessel of anger and hurt.

“N-No that’s- Jesus, no, but yer gonna get sick if you stay out in the cold any longer, so just come in, would ya?” His own anger flares, a defense mechanism he’s built over the years, and he desperately tries to push it down because his temper has never done him any favours growing up.

Hyped up on anger and agitation, you push past him into the living room, and he shuts the door behind him as you stare around the house.

“Where’s Yuta?”

“He’s sleepin’ at a friends house. You don’t actually have to babysit this weekend. It’s just you ‘n me here. I wanted to talk about what happened-”

You groan, rub harshly at your temples.

“What’s there to say Atsumu?” Your hands drop to your sides, slapping against your jeans in defeat. He tries to swallow past the lump in his throat. He can’t. His words come out mumbly, strained.

“I want to explain what happened at the game. I didn’t know that was going to happen, I swear, she just came up to me, I didn’t even know who this girl was!”

You say nothing. He watches you cross your arms, looking at him, with an expectant look.

“Everyone kept sayin’ that I should say yes and go out with her and that it’d be bad if I rejected her in front of everyone, and I - I obviously didn’t wanna do that or embarrass the girl and I felt pressured by everyone to just say yes y’know? I _really_ didn’t wanna say yes-”

“But you did.”

He shuts his mouth. You shake your head in disappointment, fall heavily into the cushions of the couch with a deep sigh. Atsumu tentatively takes up the space beside you, only going as close as he would dare. 

Your fingers trace patterns into your skin, and Atsumu finds his own fingers are doing the same. He thinks it’s better when it’s your fingers, though.

“Did you at least cancel the date later on?” you mumble, staring ahead.

He’s at a loss for words, truly cannot think of anything to say, because he’s so stupid he never even thought to call off the date privately. Instead he went ahead with it, because he thought he had to, didn’t realise he had a choice. He really is moron. You put the pieces together when his silence says enough, and you turn your head sharply to him in disbelief.

“You actually went on the date?” you sound so perplexed that he couldn’t even think to do that, and he really can’t say anything because the lump in his throat now threatens to suffocate him completely. “I- I actually can’t believe you Atsumu.”

You fall forward, place your head in your hands, and Atsumu can’t ignore the subtle shake of your shoulders. His heart is beating so hard in his chest right now he thinks he might actually collapse from heart failure.

Silence hangs over the two of you like a fog, blinding, strangling you both. His mouth works to say something where his brain fails. He’s about to say that, yeah, he did go on the date because he’s dumber than dumb, but it was the most miserable experience of his life.

The girl, Akari he learned, was so stuck up her own ass she could give Atsumu a run for his money. He’s certain he said all of two words (not that he wanted to say much to her to begin with, he wanted to run as far away from the coffee shop as he could and just hold your hand instead), but she made up for his silence with non-stop talk about herself, what she’s done, who she does and doesn’t like, what she plans to do for her future. And Atsumu wishes her all the best, he really does, but he wants no part in that. She’s rude, conceited, and found ways to put down Atsumu’s achievements in order to raise hers.

He lasted exactly 37 minutes before he made an excuse about his brother being sick and left the coffee shop in a hurry. All texts sent to his phone from her went unread.

He is about to say this, to somehow make it seem like he isn’t all that bad a guy, but it wouldn’t have mattered anyway. Because you’ve made up your mind, and nothing he can say or do anymore can change the tide of this tsunami wave crashing over him and destroying all he knows.

“I can’t do this. I can’t do this anymore.”

It’s said so lowly, quietly, muffled into the skin of your hands. And it sounds so broken, so crushed, like glass pieces that could never possibly be put together without the cracks ruining the image.

It makes his breath hitch, his body still, and a sense of dread flood through his body, his heart. His fingers pause from where they spell your name on the palm of his hand, and he slowly brings his brown eyes, wide with shock, to you.

You haven’t moved an inch, still stuck in the same hunched over position, and he wishes that he could see your face right now, because he’s beginning to fear he may never see it again.

“W-What?” he croaks, too shell-shocked to formulate a better response.

His eyes follow your back as it moves upwards and downwards with each sigh you release. Finally, you raise your head, and your hands fall limp into the space between your legs, and you turn and-

And he begins to regret his wish, because this isn’t how he wants to remember you.

The beginnings of teardrops dot your lashes, so close to making their move down your cheeks but you hold them back as best as you can, because your face becomes detached, emotionless, as only you know how to make it. And Atsumu would almost believe that this look on your face, so meaningless and empty, is real, but the sadness he’s become so familiar with, the sadness that will never leave your eyes, has come back in full force and threatens to drown him underneath the weight of their sorrow.

His stomach churns something fierce, and he forces a gag down.

“I can’t do this - _whatever this is_ , anymore. I just- I can’t.”

No, this wasn’t meant to happen.

“It’s clear what kind of person you want to be and I have no interest in standing by while you put on this different personality and treat me like a stranger. Just like everyone else.”

Please, please don’t say any more.

“I thought you were different, you _were_ , but instead you decide treat me like dirt like all the rest and I-”

You choke on your words, hug yourself, build your walls and get further and further out of his reach while he numbly lifts a hand to you. You scoot away on the couch. His hand falls flat on the cushions. His brain isn’t working, can’t speak a word. He just sits in stunned silence while his heart begins to break, piece by piece, and he’s helpless to stop it.

Even now Atsumu is useless, can’t do anything for you. Can’t try hard enough.

“I’m sick of being punished for what my sister did. By everyone,” you sniffle, rub your nose harshly. It turns red with the friction. “Why am I treated like I’ve done something wrong? _Nothing is my fault, and I’m so tired of everyone acting like it is.”_

You look at him then, and he feels so little, so insignificant, like a speck of dust floating by in the vast universe. Your lips quiver. He mirrors the action with a shake of his own, grimacing hard to stop it.

“I was so happy when you came into my life, Atsumu, and being with you has been one of the best experiences of my life. I will never regret that,” you say, and his heart stills in his chest.

This has the distinct taste of a breakup on his lips, but, that can’t be true, can it? You were never together to begin with, he never asked you to be his girlfriend, never labelled you as anything more than a friend.

Oh, how foolish is he, that he can never quite grasp what was within reach. He is just a foolish, blind little boy.

“But I cannot continue to sit on the side while you treat me like this, like I don’t matter at all to you.”

You take a deep breath. Atsumu experiences something weird. His hearing turns fuzzy.

“I deserve better.”

You do. You really fucking do, and he wants to scream it from the rooftops, but words turn to dust in his mouth. It feels drier than a desert. 

“It’s difficult for me to say it sometimes, but I really don’t deserve to be treated this way. I know that now, and I have you to thank for showing me that.”

His breath comes out rapidly, but it feels like his lungs don’t get a single drop of oxygen.

“I care about you so, _so_ much, Tsumu. You really are an amazing person, and it’s a damn shame that you choose to live your life as a puppet.”

His hands are shaking when they grip onto yours. His chest heaves, his hearing fades in and out, like someone is cupping their hands on and off over his ears as a joke. He finally wheezes something out, pathetic, frail, just like him.

“I’m so fuckin’ _sorry_ ,” he sobs, and that’s all he can offer, because it’s the truth. And he knows nothing will change now. The end is done - signed and sealed and tossed into flames. “I’m-I,” he hiccups for air. You look at him in concern, because even now you care for him so deeply and he just always has to steal the spotlight. “I don’t- please. Don't go- I’m sorry.”

He’s clawing at his chest now, desperate for air, desperate to end this nightmare and wake up with you by his side, in summer, with the sun shining, where things were good. You take him into your arms and cradle him close, rocking backwards and forwards like a mother would with a baby. He basks in your touch, grips onto you so tightly, your last bit of heartbreaking kindness, cuddles close to you while he tries to get a grasp on reality. He can’t.

He refuses to believe this is real.

(But it is.)

Your hand smoothes down the hairs on his head, while the other traces those lines and shapes of comfort on his skin. His heart won’t stop hurting. He’s a mess, a lame, pathetic looking thing, and yet you stay and hold him and he’s so fucking grateful to you.

But it isn’t meant to last forever. Maybe it never was.

(He realises, much too late, that he’s in love with you.

He doesn’t realise it when you had your rant and lay your heart on the floor for him, doesn’t realise it when you hold him close and soothe him.

He realises it when you kiss his forehead, one last time, and say goodbye, shutting the door.

He realised it then, because he knows that there won’t be a next time. There won’t be a time when he gets to tackle you into the sheets, where you play with his hair when he rests his head in your lap, when you help him tease Yuta or prank Osamu, when you text him late at night because you had a nightmare and you miss him, you want to him to hold you.

He never got to tell you.

That was your final goodbye. And he took everything for granted.)

Atsumu doesn’t cry.

He can count on one hand the amount of times as a child he cried.

But that night, in the dark of his room, buried underneath his blanket, Atsumu weeps.

And weeps.

_And weeps._

But there’s no use in crying over spilled milk, is there?

Especially when he was the one to pour the whole damn carton over the floor.

(And still, he cries.)


	6. the fresh start

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! wow, over 2k hits? that's crazy! thank you so much for reading my story, i appreciate it so much!!  
> so, i suppose this is where you all find out that i'm not up to date with the manga. i know, shocking lol so this is where the 'Alternate Universe' tag really comes into play because i'm just winging it from here on out haha so please forgive the semi canon divergence!  
> also sorry if this seems really late, ya girl got the last of us 2 and i've been addicted to it. so far it's been incredibly good and incredibly sad and has messed with my emotions lol it also gave me some writing inspo so maybe expect some tlou au with atsumu in the future bc i love atsumu and i am self indulgent (i can have a lil tlou au, as a treat)  
> and thank you for all the amazing comments on the last chapter and im sorry for breaking hearts! i love reading comments so much they make me so happy and i look forward to hearing from all you wonderful people once again.  
> enjoy!

He may only be 19, but Atsumu can say, with absolute certainty, that the summer following the ‘break up’ was the lowest he ever felt in his life.

His chest feels heavy, like an anchor is wrapped around his torso, threatening to drag him to the ground and bury him for good where he can rot away in misery. But at the same time, he thinks that’s impossible, because he’s pretty sure he’s walking around day by day with a huge gaping hole in his chest, bleeding out for the world to see, as his heart has been torn right out from its spot beneath his ribs.

He can’t say he didn’t deserve it.

He’s not sure if this whole thing would have been even more torturous and soul destroying had you remained a constant in his life. He wasn’t given the opportunity to find out.

The week after you had cut things off, you didn’t return to class. It was the second time you missed an entire week of school, and every day Atsumu sat in his chair and looked at your seat with a forlorn expression and a sting in his eyes. He’d sit, and wait, and hope that you would walk into class and he’d be graced with looking at your beautiful face just once more. But you never walked into school again.

(He learned from Osamu, who remained your friend and oblivious to the heartbreak and pain that Atsumu caused, that you dropped out of school altogether. Apparently you decided to finish your studies at home instead, and your mother put up hell about it, but relented when you told her about potential college plans and career choices, no doubt a fanciful lie just to get her off your back. You explained to Osamu that you could just concentrate better at home than you ever could at school, and so that week your parents had pulled you out of Inarizaki High. and that was that.)

He noticed he’s started to stare out of the window a lot more, just like you had done for years. He sees the birds, the flowers, the life outside the windows. And he can see why you do it, because looking outside let’s him forget, for even a moment, all that has happened. He just looks at nature, at the world that’s so much bigger than he ever will be, and he loses himself in it. But then he faces forward once more, and returns to the hellhole he’s stuck in.

The second blow came when you quit babysitting for the Miya’s. He found out when he came home after school to Yuta sulking and sniffling on the couch, and his mother looking saddened, if not a bit stressed. When he asked what happened, his mother told him that you had stopped by the house just to say you were finished with babysitting and could do it no longer. You needed to focus even more on your studies and upcoming exams, and his mother, understanding and kind, had apparently sent you off with a tight hug and a kiss on your head, and a little bonus cash for all that you’ve done for Yuta and the family. Yuta is, of course, devastated that his friend will no longer be joining him on the weekends, and you had hugged him and cried with him, and told him you’ll always be his friend, which Atsumu knows to be the truth because you adore that child, and promised to see him whenever you could. Atsumu threw his bag roughly to the side and stormed up the stairs that night.

He’s since learned to absolutely hate Saturdays now.

(The new babysitter that his mother hired was just as he had originally feared once long ago - an old hag who is about as fun as wet socks and gives out to Atsumu when he doesn’t wash his plates properly. Where it was endearing when you had done it, Atsumu just wants to fling the plate at her head like a frisbee. Yuta hates her, Osamu hates her, and Atsumu _despises_ her. He’ll put his feet on his damn coffee table if he wants to.)

Lastly, the refusal to speak to Atsumu and blocking his number would almost make it seem like you had never even existed in the first place, but Atsumu has too many memories of you, with your hair spilling over the pillows and your bodies tangled in his sheets, to ever think you were just a figment of his imagination. More often than not he finds himself awake at 3am and scrolling through all your old messages and pictures, wishing that things could be different, that _he_ could be different. He learns what he can from Osamu, who, quite frankly, is getting annoyed by his constant asking after you.

(“Why don’t ya ask her yerself?”

Atsumu shrugs, makes up an excuse that he’s too busy to text you.)

After a while Osamu stops answering him completely, too burnt out by his pestering, and Atsumu stops asking. He sneaks a peek at his phone, every once in a while, when Osamu stupidly leaves it open as he gets up to go to the bathroom. He feels guilty for peeping into his brothers’ phone, but his burning need to see how you’re doing outweighs anything else. He sees the messages, sees that they’re just...normal conversations between friends. You joke, you share troubles, you share secrets. Just like you had once done with him. Atsumu quickly puts the phone down and locks himself into his room where he wallows in misery because even the mundane things he had with you are forever gone, and he never got to cherish them when he had the chance. 

(He had even asked Kita once, when summer was well on its way as spring came to a close, how you were doing, what you’ve been up to, has life been treating you well. Kita had been telling him of the few times the two of you had met up outside of school, to just talk about old times in middle school, how the two of you had even become friends, somewhat, and Atsumu is happy that you seemingly have made a friend in Kita. You could do worse. 

Kita had looked at him oddly, raised a brow at his slew of questions, pursed his lips. He said you were fine, doing well for yourself, looking forward to starting college in Tokyo Uni (Atsumu saves that piece of info for later, as he had already chosen Tokyo University as his choice of college, clings to the sliver of hope blooming in his chest that he might see you there). He said you were getting better. And Kita had looked right at him when he said that, as if gauging his reaction, and Atsumu isn’t sure what he could possibly mean by that. So he settles for nodding mutely, and walks away, ignoring the stare he can feel on his back.)

Along with everything else that’s stressful - school ending, college staring, pro volleyball camps and tryouts, he’s sure his head will explode any time soon. He _expects_ it, can’t hold onto the overbearing and intrusive thoughts and feelings that burden his mind like a dam fit to burst and flood the world, dragging him under the waves and drowning him. It’s too much, and the only person who could help him out and lift him out of the water has pulled the greatest disappearing act of her career.

Atsumu is well and truly alone now. And he hasn’t stopped feeling this way since you walked out of his front door.

\---

The moment of his life he’s been dreading arrived as fast as a bullet train whizzing down the tracks. 

His college life has finally begun.

The University of Tokyo is fucking _big,_ big enough to get lost in, to become another number in the system, long forgotten in time once he says goodbye to this portion of life. It makes him uncomfortable, almost. For as social a person like Atsumu can be, he feels alien, foreign, like he doesn’t belong here. Maybe he doesn’t. He treats this as a stepping stone, a necessary move in his life until he gets where he really wants to be - on a volleyball court with the roar of the crowd behind him, screaming his name, setting perfectly to his team and leading them to victory, becoming the best in the country. It’s what he knows best, wears his volleyball uniform like a second skin, takes solace in the smell of the ball in his hands. _This is what he knows._ He itches to skip time and reach his goal.

(No sign of you, which is no surprise. That would be like trying to find a needle in the entire fucking barn. It still saddens him, though. But he forces himself to get you out of his head and focus on what’s in front of him.

He’s not exactly successful.)

With his blatant disinterest in college, Atsumu chose something easy enough to study. A generic Business Studies class seemed good enough for him when Aran had suggested it. He was decent with numbers, and it wasn’t that difficult to retain the information given to him in lectures, especially when he could just read it from his textbooks if he wasn’t paying attention. Besides, might come in handy in the future - setting up a restaurant was Osamu’s dream, the sole reason why he chose to do Culinary Arts, and helping him set up the business while also getting to dip a finger in the earnings while he was busy with his volleyball career wasn’t too bad a deal for him. It was for Osamu, but the greedy bastard can shut up, for all he cares.

Sharing an apartment with Osamu and Suna was easier than he had anticipated. His brother is still an annoying prick and they fight more than there are hours in the day, but for the most part it’s quiet. Osamu has always been, for the most part, a chill person. And Suna can be as silent as a mouse, save for the occasional remark he makes to rile up the twins. The apartment, close to the university while remaining deep in the city, is peaceful, and he looks forward to returning to it after classes everyday. It’s the only time he can shut off (outside of volleyball), if at least for half an hour. Plus, with Osamu studying food he gets dinner served to him practically every night, which is something he won’t complain about. He knows the people he’s living with well, they keep the place relatively clean, and if they bring anyone over for the night (if they do at all, because Osamu and Suna don’t seem like the type of people to sleep around), they’re discreet, which he appreciates. It’s more than he can say for himself.

Atsumu has earned himself a bit of a reputation with breaking hearts, one he isn’t proud of, but he bitterly reminds himself that he seems to have a talent for it. He makes it clear when he takes a girl home for the night that he doesn’t want anything - just a one time thing, purely animalistic, a need to feel like a different person for once, to get lost in only something euphoric. But even then it feels empty, a waste of energy, too many emotions that ruin the out of body experiences he aims to achieve for himself. The girls feel clingy, their moans just a tad too high pitched and whiny to seem genuine, and when their hands roam across his body it does not feel as good as it should. And the hassle of dealing with pissed off women blowing up his phone when he inevitably ghosts them after they leave in the morning has given him one too many headaches, to the point where the bathroom cupboard looks like a pharmacy with the amount of painkillers stored there. But he repeats the same process every week, a weak attempt to feel alive, to feel _something,_ because Atsumu hasn’t felt anything in months. He might as well be a zombie.

(He thinks he needs therapy when he realises he can only enjoy it when he thinks about you, when he imagines it’s you moaning beneath him, that it’s your hands that run through his hair, your lips that he kisses and wishes to never separate from. 

But it isn’t you, you’re not the body he’s clinging to, those aren’t your hands that seem to tug too harshly on his scalp, and those aren’t your lips that press too hard against his own. 

The shame and loneliness he feels as he lies awake with some random girl gripping onto him has been enough to make him cry on particularly rough nights, stifling his sobs on the bathroom floor.)

Life for him has become an almost machine-like process. Every day he wakes up, he joins the rabble of tired students that shuffle to class, comes home, eats, drinks too much on the weekends, finds some body to warm his bed, ignores them come morning time. Eat, sleep, repeat. 

Thank god for volleyball.

\---

The college volleyball team he joins is a far cry from what the Inarizaki Volleyball Club was like.

Hailing from all over Japan, the team is made up of such varying personality types it’s like looking at a box of crayons. He’s stunned to realise he recognises a lot of the members from their appearances at Tokyo Nationals, powerful players from powerhouse schools clearly looking to gain a spot as a starter on the team. A distant dream for many, considering how many high quality players the team has.

There are some guys that he recognises from the youth camps he was invited to, much like him - striving to play for big teams or compete in the Olympics. Guys like Bokuto Koutarou from Fukurodani, a man so loud and excitable one could mistake him for a dog if he didn’t physically look like a human with the strangest haircut he’s ever seen. (The strange salt and pepper colour faintly reminds him of Kita, and he makes a mental note to call him later and ask if he happens to be distantly related to Bokuto.) Much like Atsumu, Bokuto is using college volleyball as a stepping stone until he can find his place on a top tier volleyball team in the future. His chaotic energy exhausts Atsumu, and Suna can handle him even less - five minutes in his presence is enough to fill up his quota of social interactions for a month. 

When Bokuto is on the scene you never have to look far for his shadow - a man he knows to be Kuroo Tetsurou, once the captain of Nekoma High’s volleyball club and one of the most irritatingly talented middle blockers he’s played against. He’s outwardly laid back but pokes his nose in trouble whenever he gets too bored, meddling in affairs for his own amusement and laughing when people get annoyed. But for all his scheming, Atsumu knows he means well. He’s a good person at heart, has proven himself to be, he just likes to have a laugh at others’ expense sometimes. He’s not overly serious about volleyball unlike Bokuto and Atsumu but plays like he means it, has a tenacity in him that you would have to see to believe. Atsumu thinks he might like Kuroo.

But Bokuto and Kuroo _together?_ That is a migraine of an entirely different kind. For being in their second year of high school, they can be the most _immature_ and childish people Atsumu has ever met, and that’s saying something. The pair collectively share 2 and half braincells, pull pranks on the daily that they can’t even _try_ to pretend wasn’t them because Bokuto gives them away immediately (the man can’t hold back a smile to save his life), and the two of them have now made it their goal in life to tease and annoy Atsumu as much as they possibly can, as if going even a second without poking fun at him will cause them to burst into flames. They are bros, through and through, and Atsumu finds himself envious of the strong bond they have, wishes he spent more time with his own friends to find a friendship like them.

Most on the team seem nice enough, and Atsumu enjoys their presence, but there’s one on the team that he just can’t seem to trust. 

Daishou Suguru is a snake lurking behind false pleasantries and dazzling smiles. He is conniving, uses cheap tactics to make up for his just above average volleyball skills, and his need to openly mock and jeer at his opponents is a new level of low, even for Atsumu. He talks himself up like he’s God's gift to the world, won’t shut up about how amazing his personal life is or how rich his family is, and it rubs _everyone_ the wrong way. And for someone as chill and kind like Kuroo Tetsurou to blatantly dislike a person? Well that sets off every alarm bell in Atsumu’s mind, and it’s enough for him to want to put distance between himself and the serpent-like man.

Atsumu stretches with ease on the gym floor beside Suna, the gym floor freshly cleaned and practically sparkling as Atsumu daydreams, staring blankly up at the roof before he hears a loud thud come from somewhere in front of him. He looks to see Bokuto has moved to sit beside them, much to Suna’s chagrin, and beams at Atsumu from his spot on the floor.

“Hey, hey, hey! You played pretty good today! It was so much fun to spike your tosses!” 

The blonde smirks in response, shifts into a different pose. 

“I know I did. And you spiked ‘em pretty well,” he begins, almost blinded by Bokuto’s pearly whites as he grins even wider. “But ya missed a few - don’t think hittin’ them into the net is gonna fly with the big leagues if ya get to play for Japan in the future.”

He stifles a laugh when Bokuto deflates like a miserable party balloon, and - was it just his imagination, or did his hair even fall a few inches? Suna heaves a loud, tired sigh from his right. 

“Please do not set him off, Atsumu, I have no energy for this.”

“Yeah, please don’t. At least you don’t have to live with him.”

Of course, Kuroo makes his appearance, taking the spot to Atsumu’s left, stretching lazily like a cat snoozing in direct sunlight. Bokuto pouts even more.

“Hey! I’m not that bad!”

“Sure you’re not, Bo.”

“I’m not!” He aims a kick at Kuroo, who dodges it expertly. 

“Last week you sulked for six hours straight because the ice cream machine at McDonald’s was broken and you couldn’t get a McFlurry.”

“I stand by my actions, it’s frozen heaven in a tiny plastic cup!”

“I heard the machines are actually never broken. The workers just use it as an excuse so they don’t gotta clean the machines,” Atsumu pipes in, laughing at the crestfallen expression Bokuto is sporting.

“W-Wait, what? Is that true?” a bewildered Bokuto asks. Kuroo snorts loudly.

“I heard that too. Lazy bastards,” Kuroo grins. Bokuto gives a loud groan, throwing his head backwards. Suna has now thrown his towel over his head, his own personal signal for _‘I am done with this conversation for now’_.

“My day is ruined. I have never felt so betrayed in my entire life. ”

“What about that time the Fukurodani club left you at the mall because you jumped head first into the kids’ ball pit?” Kuroo drawls, laying down with his head resting on his hand. Bokuto frowns, shoulders slumping. He doesn’t wear his frowns well, Atsumu thinks. 

“Oof, you got me there.” He perks up a little. “That was funny, though. Ball pits are _awesome.”_

He gasps dramatically and clutches Kuroo’s leg for dear life, though the latter looks unfazed, as if this happens at least seven times a day. Maybe it does. Bokuto starts shaking with excitement. God, here we go.

“Bro, I just got the _best_ business idea, we have to do it!”

Atsumu can hazard a guess as to what this entrepreneurial pursuit will be.

“Tell me, bro,” Kuroo humours him, and Atsumu can’t fathom why or how Kuroo has enough energy to deal with him 24/7.

“Ok get ready,” Bokuto slaps his hands together and rubs them harshly before spreading them once more. “Adult Ball Pit!”

“Wow,” Atsumu rolls his eyes, sighs through his nose. Kuroo chuckles.

“Is there a need for Adult ball pits, Kou?”

“Totally! I mean, haven’t you ever wanted to just dive head first into a ball pit but you can’t because - well, you’re not a kid and if you do it you might get arrested? C’mon, back me up Tsumu!”

“I mean…” God, Bokuto’s conversations were always so weird. “Can’t really say that I have but you’ve had worse ideas.”

“See? My man Tsum-Tsum’s on board! We can get jobs for everyone.” He turns to Atsumu, who looks at him warily. "You can be like...the ball expert!”

“Jesus, Bo-”

“-you need to check that each ball is perfect, clean, smooth, nice to hold-”

“Really seems like that’s more your area of expertise, man,” Atsumu grins lopsidedly, watches as Bokuto looks at him in confusion until three...two...one...there we go. Realisation dawns on him, and he laughs loudly.

“You’re right! And I’ve got Tetsu to thank for that. Maybe that should be my job, right Kuroo?” He slaps him on the back, and Atsumu watches in amusement as Kuroo’s face flushes red with embarrassment because of Bokuto’s lack of filter and the volume of his voice in the gym, garnering stares from all around them.

“Shut up, dumbass! Do you want the people on the other side of the gym to hear you?” He shoves Bokuto, who flops to the floor in heaps of laughter. When Atsumu cackles himself, he shoves him too for good measure, and Atsumu’s fists fly blindly in his direction, hoping to hit his face before he topples over.

“Too late for that,” comes Suna’s muffled reply beneath his towel. 

"Can you shut the hell up? My ears are starting to bleed because of you."

Daishou saunters over to where the boys are sitting, a disdainful look set on his face, of such contempt and snobbery. Atsumu wishes he had a ball in his hand so he could spike it to his face. Kuroo tuts.

"As if ours don't do the same when you talk?"

Daishou sneers and Kuroo sneers right back at him.

"I was trying to talk to my girlfriend on the phone, not that any of _you_ would know what that's like, ugly virgins. I could barely hear her over pigeon shit here squawking."

"Trust me, she probably would prefer the sound of Bo screaming over your squeaky voice any day."

"That's not what she says when I'm in bed with her," he smirks, so smug and pathetic. Atsumu pinches the bridge of his nose. Even Bokuto looks worn out by him.

"Damn, you really take that poor girl to bed with you? I pity her, having to sleep next to a cold blooded reptilian like you."

"You are so infuriating," scoffs Daishou, and Kuroo offers him a sweet smile in response.

"I just tell it like it is."

Someone nearby pipes into the conversation, because why not rub more salt into his sounds?

"Heh, weren't you complaining that your girl is a total prude? Must be doing something wrong if she doesn't want you touching her, dude."

Daishou flushes red with anger, and Kuroo makes no effort to hide his snickers.

"It's not my fault she isn't willing to put out! I just need to give her time, break her in, you know? Like a wild horse. I'll be riding her in no time."

Atsumu scowls deeply, sickened by his rude words. God, how creepy was this guy? Years ago, when he was young and severely immature he might have laughed at the comparison. But he's since learned from his mistakes. Treating people that you supposedly care about like this doesn't work out well.

"That's disgustin'" he comments, meets Daishou’s stare head on. "Your girl isn't an animal."

"Literally no one wants to hear about your terrible sex life," adds Kuroo, and Bokuto nods his head in agreement, a deep frown etched on his face. Daishou laughs wickedly.

"Whatever. At least I have one." Kuroo scoffs and shifts his attention back to stretching.

"Riiiight," he drones. "Slither away now, snake. We're done with this conversation. That's too many words from you that I didn't wanna hear today."

"Good, the more you speak the more brain cells I lose," and with that said Daishou makes his way back to his friends.

"Damn, with how much of a dumbass you can be I didn't realise I talk _that_ much," Kuroo calls out, narrowly avoiding the volleyball flung in his direction.

Atsumu decides maybe he doesn't like Daishou.

“I don’t trust that guy as far as I can throw ‘em,” grunts Atsumu, staring at Daishou’s retreating back. “There’s just something off ‘bout him, can’t put my finger on it.”

"He irritates me," Suna speaks up, removing the towel from his face.

"God, whenever he opens his mouth it ruins my mood," mumbles Kuroo, sending a glare over his shoulder at the man in question. Daishou has returned to his phone, talking loudly and obnoxiously about how he's gonna treat his girlfriend real good tonight. What a _loser._

Bokuto agrees. "The vibes are ruined, man."

"Utterly crushed, dude."

"Set on fire and then pissed on, my guy."

"I really hate bein' part of these conversations," Atsumu groans.

"You love us!" exclaims Bokuto. The blonde snorts.

"I really don't."

"Whatever, let's finish stretching so we can go get McFlurry’s and put this ice cream machine theory to the test!”

"I'm not going-" Suna begins but Atsumu cuts him off.

"Yes ya are, you're not leavin' me alone with them."

"Cool, I'll drive," Kuroo says, moving to stand. He heads towards the locker rooms, and Bokuto moves quickly to follow. 

"C'mon, hurry up guys!" 

Atsumu chuckles when he sees the scowl on Suna's face. He leans back with a sigh.

They can be idiots, but they mean well. He silently hopes he becomes close friends with the pair, it can be lonely when you have no one to talk to. Atsumu has plenty of experience in regard. 

He stands, gives one final stretch, and drags his ass to the locker rooms to change. Might as well pick Osamu up an ice cream too.

\---

January is melting and making way for February, flowers blooming and birds singing, and it marks the moment when a big change comes to Atsumu’s monotonous life again. How momentous (more like _ironic_ ), that just over a year after his life ended, his heart would kickstart once again and send him into overdrive.

Volleyball club parties are the norm in college. He had discovered this a week after joining the club, was nearly dragged by the collar from a teammate to attend some house party, and for what it’s worth - they’re fun. They’re loud, he gets a good laugh out of them, meets people, finds someone to sleep with, and by the next day it’s all forgotten about. It’s an excuse to lose himself, to let loose the tension that has him wound up like a childs toy, waiting to be let go so it can do its thing before losing power, only to repeat the process of being wound up again. 

They’re fun. That’s it. He enjoys hanging with Bokuto and Kuroo (the latter of which has too many drunken stories to blackmail Atsumu with), sometimes he drags Osamu with him so he too can have fun for once and not have to suffer through a hangover alone because if he has to see Osamu’s smug face in the morning he _will_ do something that would get him arrested. He’s just a _tad_ grouchy when he’s hungover.

Hell, he even ended up spending his 20th birthday at a volleball party because he had no better way to spend it. (He definitely did not want to celebrate it, which was a strange move for Atsumu because he’ll never say no to attention, but it was just another reminded of how trivial things in life seemed, how the world could revolve around you for a split second before everyone moves on, and that fleeting feeling of acceptance vanishes into thin air.)

The volleyball club made his birthday as boisterous as they could, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t have a bit of fun. At least for the first half of the night. He even had two girls give him a ‘present’ when they found out it was his birthday. 

(Did he enjoy it? Atsumu thinks the breakdown on the walk back to his apartment could answer that. He stared at a photo of the two of you on his phone for the rest of the night. Damn, what a way to spend your birthday.)

The parties were _interesting,_ to say the least. And tonight should be no different. 

The throng of people in the house were hot and overbearing, and the music pumping through the sound systems were deafening. Whose house was this? He wasn’t sure, but he was two drinks in and listening to a drunk Bokuto have a deep discussion with some guy he knew from high school about the hole in his sock, the guy looking very much like he wanted to blend into the wall and not be seen while simultaneously paying attention to the owl-like man and handling him the the expertise that could only come from being friends for years. What was his name? Akaashi? Doesn’t seem like a guy who would be into parties much but to each their own.

“I’m just saying, Keiji,” Bokuto whines, the liquid in his cup sloshing around as he flings his arms, dangerously close to spilling on top of Akaashi. Akaashi eyes it warily, and Atsumu laughs because he realises his eyes have never left the cup once since Bokuto started this conversation. “It-It’s a metaphor!”

The brunette sighs, checks his watch. Probably checking when the socially appropriate time to leave a party is. Atsumu does that too, sometimes. Unfortunately, the night is still relatively young, the clock nearing 11pm. 

“And what metaphor is that, Bokuto?” he asks, leg twitching to avoid a stray drop that makes its way out of the cup. When Atsumu laughs again, it causes Kuroo’s head to shake from where it’s perched on his shoulder, laying back and reclining against Atsumu as he watches the interaction with amusement. 

“That- That life is like...a hole, y’know?”

Akaashi’s eyes narrow in confusion, and the look of utter bewilderment on his face sets Atsumu off again, Kuroo joining in. 

“Bokuto I literally have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“That makes no sense, ya idiot,” Atsumu pipes in, snorts at the pout on Bokuto’s face.

“It does! It’s like, we’re the toe, right? Just pretend you’re my big toe-”

“I’m not drunk enough for this,” mumbles Kuroo.

“Do we really have to pretend that we’re your nasty toe?” Atsumu snorts.

“Yes, you do!”

“Please just let him finish his point or we will be stuck having this conversation all night,” Akaashi pinches the bridge of his nose. Bokuto flashes a smile.

“Thanks, ‘kaashi! Anywho-!”

Someone from the team ambles his way over to the group, effectively cutting off Bokuto’s life changing spiel. Futakuchi, it seems, has decided to join the conversation with a hazy look on his face. He leans over the couch and wraps an arm around Atsumu, pulling him close. He smells, and looks, very, very drunk. Atsumu grimaces as the stench of beer wafts into his nose.

“ _Hey guys,_ ” Futakuchi drawls, smirking. “Whatcha talking about, hmm?”

“Oh! We were talking about my toe-”

“I’m just here tryna get away from Dai-shit, he’s annoying the hell out of me right now.”

Kuroo snorts, lifts his head away from Atsumu’s shoulder. “When isn’t he?”

Futakuchi laughs loudly, pinches Atsumu’s cheek, complains when Atsumu responds by shoving his face and causing him to topple over the couch. After righting himself, he sits on the couch for a moment, staring at the roof in deep thought. He looks like he’s trying to hold down vomit. The blonde scoots a little further down the couch.

“He finally brought his girlfriend, and he won’t _shut the fuck up_ ,” he hiccups. “Like whatever, we don’t care that you have a girlfriend, stop trying so hard,” he pauses momentarily, smacks his lips lazily. “She is pretty though, I will give the snake bastard that.”

“Is he still with that Mika girl you were telling me about?” asks Bokuto, and Kuroo shakes his head.

“Nah, they broke up just before college, as far as I know. Dude was like- madly in love with her before they had a fight and cut it off. Started seeing this girl not long after. Hope he isn’t using her as some rebound.”

“He’s all over her, the girl looks so uncomfortable with him- oh nice, peanuts,” adds Futakuchi, digging into the peanuts left on the table. 

“He probably is jus’ stringin’ her along, then. That’s lame,” Atsumu frowns. Futakuchi nods sluggishly in agreement.

“Least he’s getting some,” he says unhappily, and Atsumu has to hold in his laughter because there is no way in hell Futakuchi would say any of this if he was even 1% sober.

“Ya alright man? Lookin’ a lil sad there, bud,” he pats him sympathetically on the shoulder, snickering when Futakuchi sends him a dry look. “Hey I can hook ya up with some girls. I am popular with the ladies, y’know? I can be your wingman for the night.”

Futakuchi scoffs, nestles further into the couch, looking drowsy.

“I can do just fine on my own-”

There’s a commotion coming from the patio; Atsumu hears a glass break and a roar of laughter. Futakuchi looks lazily over at the door before shrugging. 

“That would be Daishou. He’s been trying to balance a glass on his nose for the past hour.”

Kuroo stands, brushing down his pants. Atsumu raises an eyebrow at him.

“I want to see who this new girl is. Wonder if I know her, want to come?” he holds out a hand to Atsumu who takes it, allowing himself to be hoisted from the couch. Futakuchi keels over and passes out on the cushions. “I just want to warn her about that dipshit so she can get out while she can. Let’s go!”

Kuroo leads the way through the bodies filling the room, and as the open doors leading to the patio come into view, for a split second, just a passing moment, Atsumu feels a twist in his stomach; a faint flicker of hope, something that feels so foreign to him now, but it’s there nonetheless, and it almost makes him pause but suddenly he’s outside with Kuroo, eyes roving around the crowd, passing from each blank face when-

“ _Ah,_ well _look_ who it is! If it isn’t my best friend cuckoo!” Daishou taunts, and some laugh in the crowd. “And blondie! How’s it going guys? Hope you’re having a swell time- oh look, let me introduce you to my girlfriend! Baby, come here for a sec-”

There’s movement to his left, and Atsumu sends one last glare to Daishou before his attention is utterly captivated for this moment, this night, his lifetime. He almost can’t believe his eyes. He’s forgotten how to breathe, how to move, how to _think_. 

You glide into view and are swept under Daishou’s possessive arm, looking very out of place and very uncomfortable, but it’s _you_.

It’s you, it’s you, _it’s_ _you._

His heart stops momentarily as he looks at you; you’re just as beautiful, as graceful as he remembers. He’s close to falling at your feet and bawling his eyes out like a child, close to worshipping the ground you walk on, like he should have, he needs to make up for lost time and lost opportunities. But you must hate him, despise him, he doesn’t blame you-

But you look at him, like you have done before. At him, through him, you stare in shock. His breath catches in his throat. You blink, and then you give the most wonderful smile, and you say:

“Atsumu!”

And suddenly there are fireworks lighting up his world, and he feels like he can finally see colour, can feel warmth in his bones, feels the beginnings of happiness creeping back into his heart. He must look like a lovestruck fool, because Kuroo is looking at him weirdly, then at you, then back at Atsumu with a calculating gaze. But he pays no attention, because he can’t look away from you for a second, too afraid you’ll disappear from his sight. And you don’t let your gaze stray from his either, they remain locked on his orbs.

(His heart, for the first time in what feels like a century, breathes a sigh of relief.)

\---

  
  


If high school was where Atsumu peaked, college is where you _flourish,_ having bloomed into the most beautiful flower he knew you would become. This newfound confidence that surrounds you looks good on you. He says as much, and you blush.

“You look like yer doin’ well for yourself.”

“T-Thanks,” you stutter, and he smiles. Maybe you haven’t completely changed. “You don’t look too shabby yourself! How’s life been treating you?”

He wants to say _‘it’s been terrible, I feel so lost without you, I need you in my life, I’m tired of crying, I love you-’_

Realises it’s not his place because you’re with someone. Someone that isn’t _him._

(He remembers all those comments Daishou made about his girlfriend during practice, all the crude things he would say. Knowing now that he was talking about _you_ , well…

He’s decided he _really_ doesn’t like Daishou now.)

So he settles for:

“It’s been good. Crazy busy with volleyball. Other than that, not a thing has happened.”

You nod slowly, mulling over what he’s said. Surely you see past the lies he’s spewing, only you or Osamu could do that. But you drop it. A part of him is disappointed, but he brushes it off. This tiny corner of the house you’ve found yourselves in is one of the quieter rooms, only a few stragglers are to be found drinking and laughing in the attic room. The two of you are cosy, sitting on beanbags next to each other. Atsumu was worried that Daishou would freak out when you asked if you could leave to catch up with Atsumu, but he waved you off, paying more attention to his phone. Not that Atsumu is complaining, he’ll take every heavenly second with you that he can.

“So, what didja decide to study?” he asks, brown eyes roving over your features with reverence. If you notice, you don’t say anything. But he recognises the blush dusting your cheeks.

“I actually decided to go with what you said and study history.” His eyebrows raise in surprise. You laugh. “I’m actually really enjoying the classes. I’m studying European History. I dunno, sounded cool at the time. I’m really starting to understand what I like and what kind of future I want now, so I guess I have you to thank for that.”

“You don’t have to thank me for anythin’. I’m real glad, it’s nice to hear yer findin’ what works for you. I’m...I’m proud of ya. You deserve to be happy.”

You beam at him, and he takes a mental picture of it. He loves that smile so much. 

“Thank you, Tsumu,” hearing his nickname from you once more feels like coming home. “And I’m proud of you, too! Osamu has been telling me volleyball has been going well for you, that’s great! Soon enough you’ll be playing for the big teams! I’ve watched some highlights, you perform so incredibly, you’ll make it big in no time.”

It’s his turn to blush, scratching at the back of his head sheepishly, eyes closed as he smiles brightly. You giggle at his expense.

“Gee, that’s nice of ya to say. I’ve been tryin’ my damned hardest, and I guess it’s paying off...dunno, I guess I’ll have to wait and see. The competition is tough-”

“You’ll get in. You were born to do this, there’s no one better than you.”

This should feel awkward, and a tiny bit of it does. But the familiarity and comfort of your presence has made him feel more like himself than he has in the past year, and he can only count himself as blessed that you aren’t making tonight weird. You’re just kind like that. He was a fool to let you go.

“Thanks...for everything,” he murmurs, and he means more than just your kind words. Needs to say it, at least once, because he never appreciated you enough when he had you. You smile, slowly, and your eyes crinkle when you do so. But you don’t say anything in return. He rubs his hands awkwardly on his pants, rubs the sweat off.

“So, you and Daishou…” he trails off. Your face becomes neutral, a blank slate. “How did...when did that happen? I mean, he doesn’t really seem your type, y’know?”

You laugh a little, smirk at him. “And you’re an expert on who my type is, are you?”

“I dunno. I suppose people can change a lot in a year.”

“Do I seem different?”

“I mean, you seem a lot more comfortable in yerself. You’re better at talkin’ to people.”

“That’s because nobody knows who I am. I can start fresh without anyone judging me before they even talk to me. It’s nice.”

Yeah, he can see that. And that’s just plain sad. People are cruel. He knows that better than most.

“That’s good. At least you changed for the better,” he mumbles, and you look at him questioningly but he deflects before you have time to ask. “Stop avoiding the question, princess.”

He didn’t mean for the nickname to slip out, blames it on the buzz he’s feeling from drinking too fast and, well, seeing you again has given him an indescribable high. Once more, you look surprised, blink, don’t correct him.

“I met him a month before college started. He lives in the same dorm building as me. I moved two months earlier because I just wanted to get away from home, because…”

“Yeah, I know.” He bites the corner of his lip. “Hope your da’ is doin’ good.”

You look grateful. “He’s doing good, thank you for asking. He misses you and Osamu.”

“He was always nice to us. Just like you. Too good for the world.”

“You’re full of compliments tonight, aren’t you?”

“Have a lot to give,” he smirks, and it’s scary how much it feels like old times, like nothing has changed. But everything has changed, and now he has to try to pick the pieces up again. You laugh and shake your head fondly.

“Anyway, he came knocking on our door- oh I have a roommate! I forgot to tell you, her name is Himari. You’d love her, she’s crazy.”

You’re so adorable when you babble, he must have the dreamiest look on his face right now. It’s ruining his street cred.

“So, yeah, Daishou came knocking on our door looking for some tape and he just- asked me out. And kept asking until I said yes. And then took me on more, I guess and well- here we are.”

You don’t sound too impressed. You don’t look it either, in fact you’re avoiding his gaze and fiddling with a loose thread on the bean bag. He doesn’t ask you about it, though. He’d rather not hear about Daishou’s love life or else he’d say something he regrets, and upsetting you is the last thing he ever wants to do.

“That sounds...romantic. Hope he treats you better than I did,” he whispers it, forces it past the elephant in the room. You stare at him, until he fidgets beneath your gaze, and your eyes drop to the floor.

“Yeah. He’s- He’s nice.” A pregnant pause. “What about you? Any lady unlucky enough to have to suffer through your jokes?”

He laughs, and his chest aches in a good way. “‘Scuse you. My jokes are top tier, thanks.”

“Sure, Tsumu,” you roll your eyes, and he gives a light kick to your foot.

“Nah, I’m not seeing anyone right now. I haven’t since…since we, uhm..”

Shit, now he’s made things awkward and you’re probably gonna go running down to Daishou-

“I don’t want things to be weird with us. I… I really missed being your friend Atsumu, and I’d like for us to keep supporting each other. I mean, we were always good at giving support when we needed it, weren’t we?”

He thinks you might need to fact check that statement because he wasn’t as good to you as he should have been.

Atsumu blinks. “You want to be friends again?”

You nod demurely.

“That sounds… that sounds great...I’ve missed you too.” _More than words can ever express._

This is his second chance, his redemption, and he’d be damned if he isn’t going to grab onto it with both hands and hold on for dear life, never to let go.

(He did that once, and look what it cost him.)

“I’d love to be your friend, again. If you can handle my amazin’ stand up comedy bits, of course. If ya can, then we’re good to go, I think.”

“I think I can do that,” you laugh, the sound is like twinkling bells to his ears. “I’m really glad I saw you again.”

“Me too, seriously.” He means it, feels it with his whole chest.

You bite your lip in thought, but whatever you’re debating about is solved quickly, and you lean towards him with arms outstretched. “Come here, give me a hug!”

You don’t have to tell him twice. 

As he pulls you close, his sinks into your warmth, buries his nose into your hair. This feels like serving the perfect ball to the ace, like eating ice cream on a hot day, the extra few hours of sleep on a day off. So simple, yet fundamental, a key element to happiness, and he could die here in your arms and he wouldn't mind it.

“Seems like it’s fate, doesn’t it?” you whisper into his ear, and it sends a shiver down his spine.

“Yeah,” he agrees, holding you as tight as he dares. “It really does.”

Fate, huh?

(Atsumu isn’t one for superstitions and myths, but this is a fairytale he can believe in.)


	7. the eyes of many

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry if this seemed later than usual! i was busy babysitting but also got caught up writing a tlou!au one shot for atsumu which will hopefully be done soon. also this chapter is different to the others and it was fun but challenging, still not completely happy with it, especially towards the end but if i stare at it any longer then i'm gonna delete it and it'll never see the light of day so just take it and run! as always thank you for the kudos and hits and especially the comments! reading each one puts a massive smile on my face and warms my heart, i love seeing what you guys think! anyway enough rambling, enjoy!

Looking in the mirror is the hardest thing you can do everyday. 

Not for anything such as looks, although those are undoubtedly just another thing to add to the list of growing anxieties and concerns in your life, but that's a trouble for another time.

No, when you look in the mirror, you don't see yourself.

You see your sister, instead.

And looking in the mirror serves as a cruel reminder of someone you lost, someone you might have had a chance to save, someone you loved dearly and will never see again.

It’s bittersweet, in a way; you hate to stare too long, to be reminded of your failures and your losses that you are forced to move on from, and yet when you stare, and when you see  _ her _ , you can pretend, if only for a fleeting moment to be lost to the wind, that she’s here. That she’s the one brushing your hair, the one who’s whispering encouragements to keep going, keep fighting, when all seems lost. 

And it’s nice. Feels like she’s always there with you, always guiding you, so that you’re never alone, even when you think you are.

You’re never alone. A hard lesson learned, but a battle you won eventually, with time healing your wounds.

They may not all be healed, the scars on your heart will probably remain until the end of time.

But Atsumu seemed to be the only person who could soothe those cuts, the only one who could hold your heart with such care and gentleness you almost forgot what feeling sad was like.

And oh, how you love him so.

(He is the sunshine that dawns, the waves that roll gently on the beach, the soft petals of roses, the butterflies that flap their wings in the summer. He is your world, your everything, the air you breathe, all that is good and important, and your heart almost can’t stand how strongly it beats for him, the muscle worn from the heavy beats that come whenever you even think about the bullheaded blonde boy with the lazy smirk and the kind eyes and the world on his shoulders.)

But that evil little part of your brain, the one that just won’t seem to disappear no matter how much you will it to, tells you that you’re just not good enough for him.

That someone else, someone like  _ your sister _ , would be better suited for him, would be his equal, his one true love, the missing piece to his puzzle.

(You said this to him once, during one of your many coffee breaks, a near weekly occurrence ever since meeting again at that party. You had said it jokingly, to stop any tension from bleeding into your lovely afternoon, and because life is just like that sometimes - a joke. You said that if Lily were alive, they would probably have been together, because Lily was perfect, and someone like Atsumu would do well to be with someone like her.

But he had stopped, stared at you with an odd gleam in his eye. “I don’t think so,” he had said. “I think life would’ve always brought me back to you.”

And left it at that.)

Ever since your last year of high school, that was all you could think about. How you weren’t good enough to be with him, how he was ashamed of you, hid you away from the world like a secret. It hurt, and it took more strength than you thought you had to leave, the best decision for both of you at the time. A hard one, but a necessary one nonetheless. 

A part of you wanted to hate him for it. But you never could. Because you loved him too much for that, and because you saw that something, hidden deep down inside, was wrong with him, but he is the only one who can discover what it is and work through it. And you had promised, once, that you would be there for him whenever he needed you. And here you are, over a year later, holding onto your promise even after everything that happened.

Being out in public with Atsumu almost felt taboo at first, too used to sneaking around and careful glances from before. You were worried that he would revert to his old ways, that he would run as soon as there was a crack in his composure, but...no. He stayed, stuck by your side, talked with you freely, sat as close as he dared to, treated you as he should have back then.

When you said this to him, made a comment on how mature he had become, he simply shrugged, looked away, and said he realised what was important. You were going to ask more, but he had distracted you with a joke, and for the sake of keeping things relaxed, you dropped it.

It was good to be with him again.  _ More  _ than good, actually. He made you feel light and happy, important, like you were the only person to exist. And maybe...maybe to him you were. You certainly  _ hoped  _ you were. Atsumu was the only person to ever make you feel like you could grasp the stars and the sky in your hands, that happiness was in your control, all you had to do was reach out and take it.

It’s very different with Daishou, that’s for sure.

It’s not like you don’t like Daishou- you do. He was persistent, to say the least, asking you out constantly every day the first week you had moved into your dorm. You were hesitant, very much so, and your roommate Himari was none too impressed by his sleazy attitude and snobbish aura. You weren’t either, if you were to speak honestly (she had made a comment about her bullshit radar going off the charts when he first flashed you a grin, but you elected to ignore her opinion and chose to make your own opinion of him). 

But you always believed in giving people chances (maybe a little too much), so you accepted his offer to take you on a date. And now, almost 5 months later, you’re still going on dates with Daishou. And, well…you remember reading something in a magazine, about getting out there in the dating scene and finding someone new to get over an old flame, but you’re still waiting for that piece of advice to kick in and start working.

He’s a good man. You can see that, past his exterior, the walls of insults and snarky comments he has built around himself, you can see that he is capable of being a good human being. He has his moments, of pure, sweet kindness, when he holds you close to him and kisses the back of your hand like a gentleman. And maybe in another light, you might have thought him to be an interesting friend to have.

But something always seemed off. He shows you around to his friends like a trophy; and where you thought it would be a nice change from how Atsumu hid you away from the world, you end up feeling more like a prized heffer at a market on display, uncomfortable with the attention and the showboating. His attitude is, for lack of a better word, rude. How anyone can treat another person with such low levels of respect, you aren’t sure, but when you try to bring this up to him he simply laughs you off, pats your head like a child, and buys something for you with his father’s credit card. If you get one more meaningless piece of jewellery you’re going to have enough to open up a shop, for crying out loud!

And his obsession with his phone is just plain strange. Ever since month 2 into the relationship, you’ve noticed he’s on it day and night, opting to pay very little attention to you at all when you meet up (which has become few and far between nowadays, but when you ask where he’s been he distracts you with something else. You ignore the stains on the collar of his shirt, because you’ve never done well with confrontation). You once tried to jokingly peek over his shoulder, your wretched curiosity getting the better of you, but he nearly threw it out of your view, and yelled at you in a panic. You’ve learned not to do that to him anymore, and now pretend not to notice when he whips out his phone for fear of starting an argument.

Why Daishou chose you out of millions of other girls, you won't fully understand. When you asked, he said it was because he wanted to unravel you, that you were something of an experiment that he needed to conduct, to find results he wanted. Whatever that all meant, you weren't sure. It didn't sound good though.

But you definitely know you aren't comfortable enough to go the places Daishou wants to go when he gets you into bed, not like you were with Atsumu.

(He was your first, and it was silly and perfect and most importantly he never hurt you, he thought about  _ you  _ above himself. Where Atsumu can be both equal parts giving and taking, Daishou is selfish, taking only for himself and complaining when there is nothing more to steal.)

Daishou is  _ fine.  _ He’s not perfect, definitely not your type. But he’s perfectly fine.

He’s just...he’s not Atsumu. And it terrifies you that every man you will ever meet will now be held to a standard that he set.

When Daishou slings an arm around your shoulders, you wish it was Atsumu instead, as you sit in the garden of his house and watch Yuta put on a play for the both of you. When Daishou whispers in your ears about how much he likes you, you cringe, wishing it was Atsumu who was laying beside you in bed as he tells you all the things that make you perfectly imperfect, etching them deep into your skin with soft lips and even softer caresses. When Daishou tries to get you into bed, you make excuses, tell him you’re tired to send him away, and touch yourself late at night when you’re in the sanctity of your bedroom, wishing it was Atsumu’s fingers bringing you to the edge of nirvana, wishing it was his hands squeezing your breasts, wishing everything was just  _ him. _

Being with Daishou feels like a mistake, but fear stops you from leaving.

Fear of what? Being single? You’re not sure. But you stay. You settle. You feel  _ terrible  _ for not giving your whole heart to him, but you just...can’t.

Not when it belongs unconditionally to Miya Atsumu.

You sigh deeply, focus on the movie gone momentarily as you become lost in your thoughts. Atsumu looks over from his spot on the couch, the hand holding popcorn halfway to his mouth paused in midair as he attempts to gauge your mood. 

Even sitting here in his apartment feels more like home than Daishou ever has. Because Atsumu has always been home, comfort,  _ safety.  _ A friend, even after everything that happened.

You think of your other friends, the ones who helped you navigate your way through life for the past year. You never thought you would ever become close with Kita Shinsuke of all people, but following your departure from Inarizaki High, the man went out of his way to make sure that you were doing fine, that you still had support even when you were both essentially strangers, and for that you will be forever grateful for him. He didn’t have to do that, but he did, and even a year later your friendship is still growing strong despite the distance. And you miss him,  _ a lot.  _ He was the only person you could trust with knowing about what happened with Atsumu. Not even Osamu knows, and you had tried keeping it from Kita, but the man sees more than he lets on, and with one stern, but concerned look (you can see how Atsumu is scared of them), you poured your heart out all over the tea table that one spring afternoon last year, and Kita listened to all your woes without judgement. And he was disappointed in Atsumu, that he would cause you this much pain and grief, thought Atsumu was better than that. But you told him everything and he listened, and that was all you needed. He never brought up Atsumu again unless you asked.

And Osamu, sweet Osamu. So very like his brother but also very different all at once. He’s different to Kita, harsher, but in a meaningful, caring sort of way, like when a parent reprimands their child for doing something to get themselves hurt. Tough love, you liked to call it, and Osamu just smiles weakly, ruffles your hair, and shoves some more food in your face because  _ ‘you ain’t eating enough damn food’.  _ Much like when you look at your reflection, gazing upon Osamu's features set you with a new kind of pain, a heart wrenching sort of pain in your chest that leaves you fighting for air. Because every time you look at him you see Atsumu, and life was just too cruel to make these boys ridiculously handsome. It’s not fair of you to compare the two, you know that, but you can’t help the way your heart lurches every time Osamu smiles at you, reminded too much of his blonde counterpart and his roguish smiles. You avoided Osamu like a plague at the beginning, but when his messages began to grow too worried for you to ignore you brought him back into your life, because even though it was painful to even look at him, having a friend like him was more valuable than anything else, though you dared not speak a word of what happened between you and his brother.

You’re forever grateful to Kita and Osamu for keeping you afloat during a very dark time, and you don’t know if you’ll ever repay them adequately enough.

(“You don’t gotta pay friends back, y’know,” Osamu had said, one windy afternoon on a bench by the park. “That’s why they’re friends, after all.”

You bought him extra pork buns that day.)

“What’s wrong with ya?” Atsumu asks, snapping you back into reality. Your head whips over to him, where his fingers fiddle with the edges of the bowl of popcorn and the light of the television dances along his handsome face which makes your tummy twist in all sorts of lovely ways.

“Nothing,” is what you say in response, and you smile at the suspicious look he gives you.

“People don’t sigh like that unless they’re having trouble, so out with it, or I’ll tickle it outta ya,” he grabs one of your ankles in warning, ready to drag you down the length of his couch and tickle you until you’re breathless and teary eyed. Instinctively you jerk, a grin making its way on your face. 

“No! Don’t do that! I’m just…” you sigh once more. “...thinking about all the upcoming assignments I have.” A little white lie won’t hurt for now, because getting into your feelings on movie night isn’t the best thing at the moment. “Mainly how I haven’t started most of them because I’m awful and lazy and-”

He delivers a light slap to the end of your foot, and the odd feeling has you giggling in surprise, wrestling to remove your foot from his grasp but his grip on it is too strong. 

“Yer not, and you know it. Lazy,  _ maybe.  _ But I know when you start ‘em you won’t stop ‘til you drop, so just relax for now, yeah? You’ll be fine... I’ll help ya if ya needed it as well, anyway.”

He lowers your leg onto his lap and begins to lightly trace patterns onto your calf, and your heart stops and restarts.  _ This  _ is one of the many things you love about this foolish boy. His attentiveness to the things he cares about, his attentiveness to  _ you. _ Remembering this little detail about you, about how much power this little movement has over you is enough to make you teary eyed, but you save the tears for tonight. Instead, you relax, keep focus on his fingers, his smell, his warmth, his heart, all the things you love so dearly it  _ hurts.  _

He sniffs the air obnoxiously, and you bring your gaze back to him. He’s trying to look nonchalant, and failing miserably, because his eyes keep flickering back and forth from the screen to check if you’re watching him. When he finally notices, he pulls a disgusted face and makes a gagging noise.

“Damn, your feet fuckin’  _ stink.  _ Do you even know how to wash yerself? Smells like the last time you washed your feet was 1882. You are really lettin’ yerself go- HEY!”

You’ve already rolled your eyes and promptly shoved your foot in his face, causing him to splutter, until he laughs, and you join in, and laughter is the only thing flowing through the air of the apartment - so bright and sweet and innocent, enough to lighten anything it touches.

Highlight his playfulness in bold yellow on the long list of things you adore about this stupid man. 

(Oh, how you would die for Atsumu if he asked it.)

\---

Kuroo Tetsurou is many things.

Smart, smart enough to become a med student, anyway.

Reliable, because if you’re not there for people, especially when they need it most, then you’re scum. Simple as.

Mischievous, because who doesn’t love a little humour in their lives? Nothing too crazy, just enough to annoy because it can be  _ hilarious.  _

Devilishly handsome, because, well-  _ look at him.  _ He doesn’t need to elaborate on that point, it explains itself.

And above all else - observant. 

It’s a great ability to have, has helped him numerous times over the years. Advantageous, but equally disadvantageous, as  _ no,  _ he did  _ not  _ want to see Bokuto pine over other people when he’s been in love with the idiot for years,  _ no  _ he did  _ not  _ want to notice the lacy pair of underwear in his dad’s suitcase when he came home from a business trip, and  _ no,  _ he  _ definitely did not  _ want to realise that Inuoka was on the cusp of becoming a full blown furry, but that’s a story for another time. 

(And when that time comes, he’s definitely not going to talk about it anyway.)

He’d like to think he’d be a great art critic, able to pick out the finer details amidst a mess of colours and brush strokes. Yeah, it has its perks.

Like how he immediately picked up on Atsumu being completely and deeply in love with little, unsuspecting you; a pretty thing, special, like a beautiful flower blooming on the wall of a dark alleyway.

Little you, who happens to be wrapped up in the coils of that vicious snake Daishou.

Stepping out onto the patio the night of the party, Kuroo wasn’t really expecting anything. Yeah sure, he wanted to talk to Daishou’s new girl, charm the pants off her just to annoy him, and go about his merry way, probably back to Bokuto and sitting through another drunken spiel about life and its many intricacies, no matter how backwards or silly Bokuto makes it sound because, well, he loves him, and loves makes you do silly things.

So colour him surprised when  _ the Miya Atsumu,  _ serial heartbreaker, hard-headed punk, Mr I’m-good-and-I-know-it, is suddenly brought to his knees and looking like he’s about to worship a goddess at the foot of her shrine when he catches one sight of you. And when Kuroo looked back at you, fighting back the urge to let shock show on his face, you looked equally as relieved to see him, like you were hoping to see him again, for Atsumu to be the last ever thing you see if the world ended.

Honestly, the kid looked like he could cry rivers in relief at the sight of you, and Kuroo had furrowed his brows because, well, how the hell did the two of you know each other? What was the history? Forgive him for being nosy, but this is the most interesting thing to happen all year, and he feels like he’s watching a K-Drama happen in real life. So he asked, and you both said you had gone to school together, and said nothing more, just stared at each other all gooey-eyed and lovestruck. (Kuroo catalogs Atsumu’s love-stricken face to the ever-growing list of things to tease him about.)

When you had asked Daishou if you could leave to catch up with Atsumu, the blonde looked like he had to physically restrain himself from jumping up and down for joy, and Kuroo watched him in amusement, but stopped himself from making a comment. He had become a fly on the wall, documenting the entire exchange to mull over later. And surprisingly, instead of being the possessive little shit he usually is, Daishou had waved you off and let you spend the evening together.

(Evening? More like the entire night, Kuroo had seen the two of you head to the attic room, and you were not seen for the entire night until near 3:30am, when Kuroo and Bokuto were trying to drag Atsumu back to their apartment for the night. With great reluctance and a million goodbyes, the blonde finally left your side, looking very much like a kicked, lost puppy.)

Daishou had simply pressed a kiss to your temple and turned back to his phone, a move that was not lost on Kuroo as his eyes narrowed with suspicion. Honestly, what kind of partner would let that happen? Would just send their girlfriend off in the arms of another man? And we’re not talking greediness, a possessive nature. No, it was more a case of security, of knowing your partner loves and cares for you, that you were the only person for them. This was a terribly stupid move for Daishou.

Because anyone with eyes could clearly see you were both in love, whether or not you both had realised it yourselves. You look at each other like you were the only people to exist, like the only emotions you could possibly feel was love, happiness, joy. Something so pure, untouchable, Kuroo almost feels like he shouldn’t have looked at it, that you were both sharing a private moment that only you two could understand and he was intruding. 

It left Kuroo with a  _ lot  _ to think about. 

And naturally, of course, he told Bokuto, and the pair lay on his bed one night, gossiping like teenage girls because  _ damn,  _ this was  _ Miya fucking Atsumu _ , and this kind of stuff doesn’t happen every day.

“Well,  _ clearly  _ they were more than friends if they went all  _ mushy  _ by looking at each other,” Bokuto said, munching on crisps and keeping his eyes on the Twitch stream playing on Kuroo’s small TV. The black haired man hums, thrums his fingertips on his belly in contemplation. 

“Yeah, I thought that too. You should have seen his face, man, I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone so... _ in love _ , I guess. It was like watching a Disney prince meet the princess for the first time, you get me?”

He sighs, watching his TV disinterestedly. Bokuto shoves more crisps into his mouth, and pieces fly out of his mouth when he speaks up once more.

“He definitely seems a lot happier now.”

Kuroo looks at Bokuto again, grimaces at how messily he’s eating. He’s going to ruin his bed.

“You noticed that, huh?”

Bokuto nods, and his golden eyes turn to face Kuroo now.

“Yeah! Before he was like...I don’t know, like an empty shell? Like he wasn’t really himself, and that he was just kinda- just walking around on autopilot? Does that make sense? I don’t know, but I remember he was a lot different at nationals, a lot louder.”

Ah, so even Bokuto noticed a change in Atsumu’s demeanour, without the added context of what happened at the party. Interesting. People truly don’t give Bokuto enough credit - when the man pushes aside his happy, carefree attitude and actually  _ thinks _ , he can be one of the smartest people you will come across.

“That makes perfect sense, Kou. It was kinda like he didn’t care about anything, and not in a  _ ‘I don’t give a shit about what you think of me’ _ kind of way, but more like  _ ‘I could get hit by a bus and I wouldn’t notice’ _ type of way, right? The dude was depressed as fuck,” he frowns, and Bokuto frowns too.

“Damn, that’s sad. Whatever happened between them must have been rough if it was enough to turn him into a zombie.”

The room is thrust into silence except for the TV as both boys mull over their friend’s love life, until it’s broken by Bokuto.

“Which is why we have to bring them together again.”

It makes Kuroo pause and stare in bewilderment at the other occupant of the bed, who seemingly doesn’t realise the full extent of what he just said, until-

Abruptly, Bokuto sits up, bringing the bag of crisps with him in a moment of clarity, and Kuroo flinches when a few stray pieces hit him. But he has barely a second to glare at Bokuto because the manic look in Bokuto’s eyes causes him to shut his mouth.

“We have to Kuroo! Don’t you see, this is what we were made for? It’s our  _ mission _ to reignite their love for each other! Mom always told me about how soulmates will keep meeting each other when the world wants them to be together no matter what happens and, well, look! They met each other again!”

“I agree, they probably should get together again, but,” he sighs, looks away from the adorable pout Bokuto is giving him.  _ Damn it, Bo. _ ”We need to realise that they might have been apart for a reason. Plus, she’s with that shithead, and we need to respect that-”

“Daishou is fishy as fuck and if you don’t see that, then you’re an idiot, Tetsu.”

It startles Kuroo, how harshly he says it, because Bokuto isn’t much one for anger or hatred, but he says it with such loathing that it forces Kuroo to question how much he actually dislikes Daishou. Bokuto rambles on with a rigid furrow of his brow.

“He’s disgusting. It’s horrible to hear what he says about women in general, let alone his girlfriend. The guy is a sleazeball, I can’t  _ stand  _ him, he’s just so- so gross, y’know? From the way he plays to how he treats people. If Atsumu is really in love with Daishou’s girlfriend, and she loves him too, then we need to do something about it and get them together because we can’t let Daishou treat a girl like that.”

He angrily shoves more crisps into his mouth. How big is this damn bag? Bokuto has a point, though. You seemed like a nice enough girl, and the way Daishou flaunts you around like some prized boar he caught while simultaneously speaking as if you weren’t worth the dirt beneath his feet makes him want to retch, because no person should be spoken about like that. Least of all a  _ partner.  _

(Atsumu looked like he was more than willing to get on his knees and bow to your every whim, and that was enough for Kuroo to decide that Daishou wasn’t the one for you.)

“Plus, Futakuchi is pretty sure that he’s cheating on his girlfriend, or else cheating on  _ that  _ girl with his current girlfriend. Either way, cheater.”

Kuroo’s ears nearly perk up like a cats, and he looks at the spiky haired man with renewed interest. Bokuto  _ knows _ he has him caught on this little tidbit of information, if his growing smirk is anything to go by. Hook, line, and sinker.

“Come again?”

“ _ Well,” _ Bokuto clears his throat obnoxiously. “Futakuchi noticed as well that he seems to be always stuck in his phone, right? And that’s fine, most new couples are like that, but Futakuchi said he got like two phone calls in a row, both from different girls. He found out that one of them was his girlfriend, but the other he isn’t so sure about. Does he have any sisters?”

Kuroo shakes his head dumbfoundedly. Well, isn’t  _ this  _ interesting? His suspicions were nearly confirmed, but he wasn’t about to jump the gun just yet.

“No, not that I know of.” Bokuto looks proud punch, and Kuroo is quick to try and drag him back down to reality. “That’s not exactly concrete evidence, though-”

“But it’s a start, isn’t it? Atsumu is our friend. And friends deserve to be happy.  _ C’mon,”  _ he waggles his brows, causing Kuroo to snort.

Kuroo thinks about his morals, about how it’s wrong to interfere with other peoples’ business, how they would essentially become homewreckers if they went through with whatever ‘soulmate’ plan Bokuto had in store, about how they should let things just play out naturally, like the world intended.

Kuroo thinks about how much he  _ hates  _ Daishou, about how the man had compared you to a wild animal, about how he treats people with so little respect it’s dehumanising, about how he could possibly be a cheater if what Futakuchi said was true.

Kuroo thinks about Atsumu’s absolutely smitten face, and your equally lovestruck expression, like the world had shifted and the planets all aligned once the two of you locked eyes.

And Kuroo thinks  _ fuck it. _

(It’s time to meddle.)

“Fine. Let’s do it. For Atsumu,” he says, and snickers when Bokuto hoots for joy, bouncing his body on the bed as best he could while in a lying position. “We need to think carefully about everything we do, though. We can’t let this shit get messy.”

Bokuto whips out his phone, resumes eating his crisps. “I know, man, which is why we gotta do our research!” He wiggles the phone in his grasp. “A little social media stalking never hurt anybody.”

“I’m pretty sure it has, but whatever,” Kuroo rolls his eyes, and leans closer to Bokuto as he opens up Instagram. Bokuto nudges his side, a wide grin plastered on his face.

“This will work out, Atsumu will be even happier once all this is over.”

Kuroo sighs deeply, though it releases no tension that’s beginning to build up in his body.

“I hope so.”

Another rustle of the bag of crisps as Bokuto throws more into his never-ending mouth. Kuroo  _ does _ glare at him this time, and Bokuto has the decency to look a little apologetic.

“Don’t get crumbies on my bed, man.”

“Sorry, bro, my bad.”

\---

For most of his life, whether intentional or not, Osamu has had to live underneath the shadow that his twin brother casts; a large, suffocating thing, too big for Osamu to escape from to ever get to see the light of day, to bask in the sunshine of his own achievements.

That’s not to say Atsumu overshadow’s him in everything, no - there is plenty that Osamu can one-up Atsumu with, plenty that he delights in knowing that it rubs Atsumu the wrong way when he isn’t immediately perfect at something.

It’s just when Atsumu wants something, come hell or high water, he  _ will  _ get it eventually.

And more often than not, that has been a source of contention between the pair.

Where Osamu wants to proudly display his drawing to his parents, Atsumu just  _ has  _ to show them the new trick he learned on his bike. Where Osamu was given ‘Best Chef!’ at the school’s meagre cooking competition, Atsumu wins ‘Best High School Setter’ for all of Japan. 

Where Osamu takes two steps, Atsumu sprints ahead with twenty. 

It’s tiresome, but Osamu has learned to live with it.

He’s become used to Atsumu being showered with praise for his skill and achievements. And he’s fine with it. At the end of the day, they’re brothers, and despite how much Atsumu likes to get on every single one of Osamu’s nerves until they’re frayed and ready to snap at the lightest touch, he still loves the idiot. They’re family. Nothing will change that. The same blood, same family, even the same  _ face.  _

They’re two sides of the same coin; fundamentally the same when it comes down to it, but show very different pictures.

They push and pull off of each other, like waves on a shore, ebbing and flowing. Atsumu is a storm; loud, brash and headstrong, and Osamu is the thunder before it; muted but strong, intimidating, but loud when provoked. 

Again, the same, but different. Agree to disagree.

But their opinions seem to align perfectly when it concerns  _ you. _

Osamu is far from stupid. He may not have noticed anything at the beginning, but he does notice when his brother acts differently. And he definitely treats you differently from the rest. It was a slow transition, from cautious stares to full on looks across the room, one you would share with him, and Osamu would have to bite his lip to keep from saying anything. It was in the way he would stand just a tad too close to you, would let his hands linger too long on the dip of your back. It was in the way his whispers caused the brightest of smiles to bloom on your face, heat dusting the apples of your cheeks.

It was in the way he heard his brother crying in the dead of night when he thinks no one could hear him, how he would ask far too many questions about you after you had disappeared from the lives of the Miya family, how he walks around like a man with a broken heart, sick with grief, lost in a world too big.

Osamu notices. And Osamu stays quiet.

Because he’s not strong enough to know, to hear, what exactly transpired that summer before third year at Inarizaki.

And it tears him up, because Atsumu is clearly upset, but he can’t help him due to his own selfish emotions, even though he so desperately wants Atsumu to be normal again, to feel like he can breathe.

But at the same time, he couldn’t stand the thought of hearing about you being in love with his brother, not when he’s been head over heels for you since that day he walked into the house and you were sitting next to Yuta. So painfully, agonisingly in love with you, and he acted too late.

Once again, he suffocates under the weight of Atsumu’s shadow, but this time he knows he won’t see the other side. He can try to run, but Atsumu isn’t even on the ground- instead he’s high above, untouchable.

And his heart dies a million times when he looks at you.

When you smile at him, his veins flood with fire. When you rest your head on his shoulder, he has to restrain himself from sighing sadly, and when you hold him close, when you call him a good friend, he has to bite his lip and choke down any sobs that threaten to escape the confines from his chest.

(You are the stars in the night sky, the dew drops on spring leaves, the warm sand between toes. He craves you, yearns for you,  _ loves  _ you, and will never have you.)

It’s so terribly tragic, to have to be content with just being friends while watching you tip toe around his brother, to watch as Atsumu falls deeper for your bewitching spell, like a sirens call to a pirate, and not be able to do a damn thing about it because-

Because what could he do? Break it up? You both made conscious decisions, and whether or not you were public or private about he would have to respect your decisions. 

(It does not stop him from being bitter about it, though. And he hates how spiteful he has become.

Oh what he would do to be Atsumu for a day, to see what it's like on the other side, where you get everything that you want.)

He doesn’t know what transpired that one fateful summer, and maybe he never will know. His heart isn’t particularly interested in hearing the juicy details.

But what he does know is that he will take a step back, to linger in Atsumu’s daunting shadow while he bathes in your sunlight. He lives in false ignorance for the sake of Atsumu, because he doesn’t want to drive either of you away from him if he opens his damned mouth, too scared of fucking up and destroying all he knows and loves, because it's clear as day that Atsumu loves you with every fibre of his being.

He does this for both of you, because he cares.

(Sometimes he wishes he didn’t. Maybe then things would be easier.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope everyone has a great weekend, love you all!
> 
> edit: i wrote a lil post-apocalypse fic for atsumu as well if...you know...ya wanna take a gander or anything...would make me really happy y'know? anyway, [ here it is,](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25230049/chapters/61156900) hope you check it out and enjoy it!


	8. the lost opportunities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heLLO I'M SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG!! kinda had writers block for a while and got really busy but we're finally done! also this is really fucking long i'm sorry if this isn't your bread and butter but it got out of hand AND was supposed have more to it but when i finished the last part i was like damn i gotta stop here and write a new chapter so there you go.
> 
> also haikyuu is officially finished (manga-wise, anyway) and i was very emotional because haikyuu itself was/is my comfort thing, has been for a whole 6-7 years when i got into it and i'm just forever grateful to furudate, the story and characters, and the fandom for great memories. so to all you lovely readers out there, ily and appreciate you so much <3
> 
> ALSO NOT KUROO RUINING NEARLY EVERY SINGLE FIC BY NOT CHOOSING THE CAREER WE THOUGHT HE WOULD SDKFHAKSDJFH THAT SLY BASTARD I HATE U AND LUV U

Atsumu is fucking  _ tired. _

He doesn't particularly appreciate being woken abruptly at the ass crack of dawn by Bokuto slamming his fists on his apartment door (Osamu gave him the deadliest, most violent look he could muster in his sleepy, 5am haze that promised that Atsumu was in for a world of pain as soon as he gets back), appreciates it even less that he has to be stuck in a car with Hedwig's dumber cousin and con-man extraordinaire for little more than a 5 hour drive, but he supposes he has other things to worry about.

The beginning of March signals that training week has begun, and is going to be full of big wigs that could get Atsumu another foot in the door to play for League 1 Division Teams. It’s a pretty big deal, because they’ll be watching his every move, analysing him, making notes like he’s a guinea pig in a lab. Suffering through a car ride in Bokuto’s beat up, small ass car and having his ears bleed while both Bokuto and Kuroo scream the words to Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody while it’s still dark out is the least of his problems.  _ Should  _ be the least of his problems.

_ And yet. _

He likes the song but  _ damn,  _ they make him want to not ever listen to music ever again until the day he dies.

(Suna had the right idea by outright refusing Bokuto’s offer of driving him to the hotel the team will be staying at, and instead will be taking the bullet train at his own wonderful, comforting pace.

_ “I want some peace and quiet if I’m gonna be awake at that ungodly hour, I’m not sitting through hours of Dumb and Dumber belting out show tunes.” _

Atsumu thinks he should be more like Suna.)

He’s stuffed into the backseat, just behind where Bokuto sits in the driver’s seat (how that man ever got a driver’s license, Atsumu will never know), bags taking up the majority of the space next to him and forcing him up against the windows, there’s old plastic cups and wrappers from fast food restaurants shoved hastily underneath the front seats, as if he ‘tried’ to clean but wasn’t bothered actually taking the rubbish  _ out  _ of the car, and Atsumu is pretty sure there’s a cobweb in the top corner of the back window.

This is hell.

“Oi, Bo,” he groans, attempting to push the bags that threaten to squash him like a teeny, tiny bug. “Didn’t ya say you were rich or somethin’? Could you not have bought a better car than this shit?”

“Hey!” Bokuto splutters indignantly from the front seat, golden eyes meeting Atsumu’s in the mirror with a frown. He turns down Megan Thee Stallion in annoyance. This is Bokuto’s way of saying _‘I’m not happy with the level of disrespect you’ve thrown my way.’_ Atsumu would laugh but he has no energy. “I never said that! And even if I did, I like being independent and making these decisions by myself. Don’t disrespect Carla like that,” he rubs the dashboard lovingly. “She’s my baby.”

“Well you shoulda given her up for adoption, then,” Atsumu drawls, presses his cheek to the window and stares dully out at the blurry lights that whiz by. His head vibrates against the glass.

Kuroo laughs while Bokuto swears.

“I was the one who told you his family were rich- which they  _ are,”  _ he sends a pointed look to Bokuto when he tries to object with  _ ‘we’re not rich, we’re comfortable!’ _ . “But this idiot here refused their money when he got his driver’s license. Saved up for months to buy this car and it’s been with him ever since. Wouldn’t listen to me when I told him to buy literally any other car, said he wanted this piece of crap.”

Atsumu groans loudly and immaturely from the backseat.

“Why couldn’t we take your car, Kuroo? ‘S a lot nicer than nearly  _ suffocatin’  _ to death back here, I mean- why aren’t the bags in the back?”

Kuroo shrugs, and fiddles with his phone, perusing Spotify for a new song. Atsumu thought he saw the soundtrack for Tangled appear on screen for a split second. God, please help him.

(He actually really loved it after you played it for him one night, but you definitely won't hear him saying that out loud. Only to you, maybe.)

“My car is getting fixed up at the shop, won’t be finished for another week. So it’s either Bo’s car or paying for a train there and well - we’re broke college students. Beggars can’t be choosers, my friend.”

He makes a fair point, and Atsumu hums in resignation. He appreciates Bokuto being a good friend and offering to bring him along for the drive but  _ man,  _ he just wanted a few hours of sleep to be ready for an intense first day, and he’s not just talking about training.

Unlike high school, college is a lot more lenient when it comes to who gets to go to the camps. You know, maturity and all that nonsense. While sort of frowned upon, it’s not exactly forbidden to allow partners, family or friends to come along and stay in the hotel with you, so long as they didn’t pose as a major distraction to the players. And it just so happens that you’ll be there, with Daishou, sharing a room together, for a week, attached at the hip.

Yeah.

_ Fun. _

It’s been roughly a month since you came back into his life and it’s been both a heaven sent blessing and absolute hell. You’ve welcomed him back with gentle open arms, and Atsumu begins to feel like he’s slowly able to pick up the discarded pieces of his life, only for the mere sight of Daishou standing next to you to wash them away like the fierce tide of a tsunami. And Daishou, ever the watchful snake, seems to have picked up on your closeness with Atsumu, or the feelings that he thought he’d done a good enough job of hiding, because the taunts and smug looks have increased tenfold, and it makes his blood boil hotter than lava. Whatever semblance of civility the pair had before, once hanging on by the thinnest thread, was effectively snapped by the delicate snip of your fingers. 

Atsumu can only thank God that Daishou seems to be away from your presence more than he is actually with you, spending time with ‘the boys’ for hours on end. It’s suspicious as hell, and both Kuroo and Bokuto are quick to agree, but he’d rather spend his precious time with you than chaser after a scrub like Daishou. It’s Daishou’s loss. (Atsumu recalls Bokuto grinning weirdly from ear to ear, like he has a world of secrets that nobody else has, and told him not to worry about Daishou, that he’ll  _ ‘handle’  _ it. Whatever that means.)

He was content to ignore that Daishou was even your boyfriend to begin with. What he sees won’t hurt him ( _ but it does).  _ But now having to spend a week at a hotel, fuming with envy as he drags you close to his side, knowing that you’re sharing a bed together, and having to watch Daishou sink his vicious fangs into your neck in the worst display of affection he’s ever been subjected to?

Atsumu would rather eat a plate of maggots.

He had asked Osamu to come with him, as a last resort so he at least can say he has company, but Osamu said something along the lines of  _ “I would rather die than have to sit through that kind of torture for an entire week.”  _ Damn, ok then. Atsumu gets the feeling his ire isn’t entirely directed towards him, but he makes no move to question it because getting into arguments with his twin was  _ exhausting.  _

Atsumu sighs warily, fingers drawing shapes into the fog left behind on the window. Kuroo finally chooses a song, and Atsumu thanks his lucky stars that it’s something nice and chill.

“So,” Kuroo starts, rolling his head against the headrest to look lazily behind him at Atsumu. The blonde's own pair of chocolate irises swing slowly towards the bedhead. “How is she?” Atsumu’s brows furrow in confusion.

“Huh? How’s ‘who’?”

A tired exhale from Kuroo. “You know who I’m on about. Your  _ lady love. _ ”

His brows shoot up to his hairline, and he can feel the beginnings of a blush creep up his neck.

“Lady love? The hell are ya talkin’ ‘bout? She’s...not my ladylove,” he pouts, crosses his arm. 

“But you want her to be!” Bokuto cries from the front, looking at him frantically in the mirror. Kuroo’s long, slender fingers rub deeply into the sockets of his eyes, sighing lowly.

“Way to be subtle, Kou.”

“I don’t wanna beat around the bush! Atsumu, you’re in love with her, right?”

He nearly chokes on his damn spit. His eyes, wide as the volleyballs he hits across the court, flicker between the men in front of him, who wait expectantly. He  _ knew  _ coming on this car ride was a mistake. Is it too late to just open the door and jump?

“W- _ What?  _ I don’t- I don’t know what yer on about! She’s with Daishou, and we’re just- we’re just friends, that’s it. Friends, real good friends. Buddies, pals, amigos, whatever the fuck ya wanna call it. But we’re  _ just friends.  _ I’m not in _ love _ with her.”

(He lies, and lies, and lies, and as much as he wants to forget the truth and live with the lies he has created, the words leave a disgustingly acrid taste of ash in his mouth, and it won’t wash away.)

His rambling’s fool no one, and when Kuroo and Bokuto send him unconvinced looks from the front seat, it sets his cheeks ablaze. Kuroo hums sarcastically, and Atsumu wants to hurl a bag at his head.

“I’m not so sure man, doesn’t really seem that way, you know? You look like you’re both head over heels for each other.”

“Oh yeah? And how would  _ you  _ know, ya ugly rooster?” The lame insult makes Kuroo laugh and serves to make Atsumu’s irritation grow.

“Well, let’s see; you were a miserable idiot for the first semester of college until you saw her again, and when you  _ did  _ see her again you honestly looked like you saw God for the first time. You mope when she’s not around, and when she  _ is  _ you never take your eyes off her and stare at her with this dopey grin on your face like you’d marry her on the spot if you could. Anything else, Bo?”

“Oh! You talk about her  _ constantly _ , and you go so red whenever she smiles at you! I mean, she’s just looking at you, dude!” Bokuto laughs loudly. “You follow her around like a puppy, you look like you want to  _ murder  _ Daishou when he talks about her- oh and you kinda look like you want to cry whenever he’s with her. Right, Kuroo?”

The black haired man nods in agreement.

“Yeah, it’s like looking at a sad puppy.  _ And  _ she looks at you the same way too, like- you know, she’d follow you into the depths of Mount Doom like Frodo and Sam type deal. It’s cute. The girl really cares about you, man. Ah, to be young and in love…”

“I can’t believe this. How would you know? You barely know her! You’ve met her like three times,” Atsumu barks. Honestly, where do they get off, putting him on the spot like this? When he’s tired and can barely function?  _ Assholes. _

“Yeah, but she loves us and counts us as her friends. Said so herself!” Bokuto beams, his mouth flashing his pearly whites. “And I agree with Kuroo, the girl is so obviously in love with you it  _ hurts  _ me that you don’t see it.”

Atsumu’s gut clenches. He has caught glimpses of it, of unrestrained affection in your eyes as you flash him the smiles you reserve for him, and him only. And he drinks it up like water to a dead flower, using it to grow, to find happiness, but his brain shuts him down, warns him not to get too close. You’re taken for. Nothing more about it. So he pretends he doesn’t see.

(That doesn’t stop him from dreaming about it.)

“She’s not in love with me. Least...I don’t think she is,” he sighs. And so quietly, he adds: “Not anymore, anyway.”

“Aha! So something  _ did  _ happen, I  _ knew  _ it,” Kuroo looks so proud of himself, and it causes Atsumu to glower in his direction.

“What, were you evaluatin’ us or sumn’?”

“Yes,” Kuroo and Bokuto answer simultaneously. He rolls his eyes, redirects his gaze to the passing cars on the road. He can see the sky beginning to change from the darkness of night to the early light of dawn.

“Ain’t none of yer business,” he tuts.

“True, but we’re still gonna ask what happened anyway.” Kuroo shifts so that he’s facing Atsumu better, a curious look on his slender face. “You can trust us. We’ll even put in a good word with the lady if you want. You’re a better choice than Dashou, anyway.”

Atsumu scoffs and shakes his head, but one look at Bokuto’s pout in the mirror and he relents with a deep sigh. He was too tired for this shit, man.

“Ya want the long version or the short one?”

“Well, we have time for the long version but,” Kuroo casts a glance at Bokuto. “Kou doesn’t have the best attention span when he’s driving so; short version for now please.”

Atsumu bites the inside of his cheek, wondering how he should go about this. In the end, he opts for bluntness.

"Met in high school, she was my lil' brothers babysitter, we started havin' sex, never made anythin' official or told anyone, accidentally started bullyin' her in school, she broke it off in the end. Didn't see her for a year after that."

Silence.

Then chaos.

"Wait, you actually slept with the  _ babysitter?"  _ Kuroo asks in amusement.

"You accidentally bullied her? How do you accidentally bully someone?" Bokuto muses, sheer bewilderment flooding his face.

"Why didn't you make it official, you clearly love her-"

"Why did she break it off? What did you do? If you hurt that angel, Atsumu, I  _ swear-" _

"I don't get why you kept it a secret, why not just tell-"

"How did she just disappear, didn't you go to school wi-"

" **_Oi_ ** ," Atsumu roars, and the two men jump in surprise, shutting their mouths close. All is silent in the car except for some rap song Atsumu doesn't recognise while the men sit, tense, worried that they might have annoyed Atsumu. 

Well, they  _ did _ , which is exactly why he's glaring at the two of them. 

Bokuto, of course, breaks the silence with a snort.

"I think we're gonna need the long version."

"Yeah, we need a lot more detail than that," Kuroo agrees. Atsumu buffs, rolls his eyes and crosses his arms like a petulant child.

"Ya want all the juicy details, huh?" They nod. "Wanna know about the time we sixty-nined on my bathroom floor?"

Bokuto nearly swerves off the road.

" _ Excuse me?  _ **_She_ ** _ did  _ **_what_ ** _?!" _

Kuroo tries to calm Bokuto down before he goes into hysterics, the picture perfect, innocent image of you in his mind beginning to crumble into dust.

"Kou, calm down! He's just messing with you!"

"Sure," Atsumu smirks. "If that's what ya wanna believe."

"Just give us more information than what you were giving,  _ asshole." _

His chest rises and deflates with the heavy sigh he releases, and he rubs at his forehead in agitation.

" _ Fine _ , but save all yer comments and questions 'til the end," once more, he pauses, searches for the most effective way to regale them with the tales of his idiocy. "We met in high school but never really talked, I was...busy with volleyball or whatever."

(A half lie. At this point, Atsumu isn't sure what's even true, anymore.)

"Nobody talked to her. She got bullied a lot in school, bunch of lame ass scrubs would give her shit over a ton of rumours that weren't even true. Guess they were just lookin' for an easy target, she never stood up for herself."

He looks out of the car window, scowls at the memory.

(Wishes for the millionth time in his life that he had done something, that he was strong enough for you.

He wonders if he's different, now.

He prays that he is.)

"My brother needed a babysitter, so my parents hired her for the summer when school ended. My brother and family really liked her, so my parents kept her on. We became friends and one day we were talkin' and- well, one thing led to the other and we…"

Kuroo makes a noise of understanding. Bokuto begins to pull into the side of a gas station and rolls the car to a stop, entranced by the story.

"Well, we kept doin' it for the entire summer. Never told a soul, not even Samu. It was...was the best time of my life. Jus' bein' with her. I'd do it all over 'gain in a heartbeat."

The boys share a look, but Atsumu doesn't notice. He clears his throat, it's getting tight.

"Anyway, school started again and I got freaked out when people said I shouldn't be talkin' to her, that it'll hurt my volleyball career 'n shit and I actually listened to them and ignored her in school 'cause I- 'cause I'm an  _ idiot. _ " He sighs again, rubs at his eyes. "I know I shouldn’t have done it, but I did. I let other people's opinions get to me. She said she was fine with actin' like nothin' happened at school. And I believed her."

He should have been able to read between the lines.

“My brother invited her to a game of ours and I didn’t want her to come. I was afraid of people findin’ out. Then some girl asked me out and I...I felt pressured by everyone to take her on a date so I said yes. I fuckin’ said yes and that was the last straw. She ended things and dropped out of school. And that’s it. I was a fuckin’ idiot, and lost the only person I actually seem to care about.”

The car is plunged into silence. Atsumu sits forward, and rubs his fists into his eyes. Maybe if he rubs hard enough he can rub away the memories of all the stupid shit he’s done.

Bokuto is the first to break the silence, unbuckling his seatbelt so he can address Atsumu properly by twisting in his seat, head poking around the headrest.

“The universe wants you to be together.”

“That isn’t funny, Bo.”

“I’m not not joking,” he says, looking completely serious with his ridiculous statement.

“He’s not,” chimes Kuroo, who gives Atsumu a sympathetic look.

“The universe is calling for you to be together, don’t you see? I mean, call me a hopeless romantic but you are  _ so _ in love with her and she is in love with you too! You broke up, right? But fate said ‘well that can’t happen’ and you met each other again, a year later. And I just  _ know  _ that if she leaves your life again somehow, she’ll come back to you again eventually. She’s the Yin to your Yang, the moon to your sun, the macaroni to your cheese!” He cries out in frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why won’t you do anything about it?”

“How the hell can I when she’s already with someone else?” His patience is wearing thin, and Bokuto’s obnoxious groan doesn’t help.

“But you won’t even try-”

“If she wanted somethin’ she woulda said it-”

“Look, Bokuto is right,” Kuroo cuts in, and Atsumu levels him with a stare full of disbelief. "When I was your age-"

“Kuroo you’re like, a year older than me.”

“Would you just let me finish?” he snaps. Atsumu raises his hands defensively. “I was in a similar situation before. And believe me, I know how much it fucking sucks to watch the person you love be with someone else because you took a step back and did nothing about it. But for the sake of your own happiness Atsumu, you’re going to have to make a move eventually, or else you might lose her forever.”

He takes Bokuto’s hand, and dons the softest look Atsumu thinks he’s ever seen on the raven haired man.

“Take my advice; once you get over your fears and do it, you won’t have anything left to regret.”

His stomach twists with all sorts of emotions - longing, nostalgia, terror, envy. 

Kuroo’s right, and there’s no two ways about it. He just-

He doesn’t know what to do. He feels lost. Alone. And this is usually the part where he asks for your guidance, but obviously he can’t do that now.

He presses his cheek to the cold glass of the window, and bundles up further into his hoodie. No more talking, he just needs to think. Bokuto starts the car again, and Atsumu takes comfort in the rumble of the engine. Kuroo grants him one last piece of wisdom:

“If you don’t start making a move on her, then Bokuto and I will just have to do it for you. Please pick the less embarrassing option.”

When he sighs, it sticks to the glass, clouding his vision. He wonders if this is how his brain must look; a clouded mess of misery.

“Now, back to the music! I’m thinking some Fleetwood Mac would be fitting after that heavy conversation.”

“At least put on Dreams,” Atsumu mumbles into the glass. Kuroo chuckles, and then the smooth bass and lulling notes of Stevie Nicks drift into his ears like silk, and his eyes close.

(Why are affairs of the heart so complicated?

The only thing he knows is that he loves you.

Shouldn’t that be enough?)

\---

The hotel was, more or less, exactly the way Atsumu had imagined. It wasn’t anything crazy fancy, but wasn’t situated in the slums either or infested with rats. It was good - good enough for a prestigious volleyball club like Tokyo Uni could afford, with the gym they’re training at only a 5 minute walk away. Several pit stops and deep conversations later, Bokuto’s car pulls into the hotel’s parking lot just before 10am, and Atsumu silently applauds Bokuto’s promise of getting the trio to the hotel before they’re forced by the coaches to regroup and start a rigorous day of training. 

They pull their bags from the car and make their way to the entrance of the hotel, where he recognises other teammates and club staff loitering around the entrance, chatting and smoking in the bright morning sun. Some have partners or friends with them, and it makes the area look busier than it probably has been in months.

Loud, nasally laughter booms through the space at the front of the area, and Atsumu’s eyes immediately identify the source of the sound as Daishou, watching in disdain as he jokes with his other snobbish friends. Kuroo doesn’t look too impressed either, if the sneer on his face was anything to go by. Atsumu’s breath hitches in his throat. If Daishou is here, that must mean you’re here too. His eyes scan the area around Daishou but he can’t find you anywhere, maybe you decided not to come in the end. But Atsumu was pretty sure he remembers you saying you were com-

He spots you. And the sight of you makes him smile, spreads warmth throughout his body.

You’re a bit aways from Daishou, ducked down behind a giant outdoor plant and crouching on the ground, where you coo and aww over a stray dog, rubbing at his fur affectionately. The dog looks like it’s on Cloud Nine - leaning his head to stay underneath the gentle rubs you offer and wagging his tail enough to start a hurricane. It causes him to pause, to just take in the scenery, and his smile turns dopey with love, wondering if he really could just watch you play with the dog for hours and be content to just see your wide smile and hear your delicate murmurings, to not interrupt a moment so innocent.

(He could.)

"Don't you just wish you were that dog right now?"

Kuroo’s voice startles him out of his reverie, and he jolts, a strong blush flooding to his face, embarrassment at being caught out written so clearly on his face.

"S-shut up Kuroo!"

You look up as Kuroo snickers, and wave the group over with a bright smile.

“Hey guys! You’re finally here, good to see you!”

Atsumu comes closer to where you still sit, tugging the mangy mutt closer to your body. Atsumu isn’t going to outright say he’s jealous of a dog, because that is absolutely insane and a new level of lame, but he’s not going to argue with Kuroo when he thinks about it being him receiving precious head rubs and kisses.

God, he has it bad.

“Glad to see you came. It’ll be nice to not have to converse with meatheads 24/7. An actual conversation is appreciated every once in a while,” Kuroo greets with a fist bump, one you return with a laugh.

“I’ll try my best to provide some good entertainment after training, then. My dad says I’m a delight,” you joke, and Bokuto breaks into laughter.

“You already do! It’s why you’re our new best friend, after all!”

Bokuto bolts over to the other side of the dog, and gets to work on showering it with all the love and affection in the world. The dog gladly accepts the attention. 

“And who’s this lil guy? Your new boyfriend?” Bokuto jokes.  _ God, he hopes so. _

You chuckle, deliver a scratch behind the floppy ears of the dog. “I wish. Found him wandering around outside, and no one came over to him so I decided to come say hello!” The pooch woofs in agreement. It makes Atsumu laugh.

“Picking up strays now, are we? You sure he doesn’t have rabies or anythin’?”

“I’m sure. And even if he did it wouldn’t stop me from loving you, isn’t that right you handsome boy?”

Your baby talk is absolutely ridiculous and he loves every second of it. He grins, and you grin sheepishly back at him. The dog begins to curiously sniff at Atsumu’s hand, and he leans forward to rub the back of his long fingers against the top of his head. The shaggy dog’s eyes close in bliss, making Atsumu smirk good-naturedly. He realises with a start that he has now effectively leaned into your space, and his face is mere inches from your own, but you don’t back away, instead staring into his eyes with a soft look.

“Hey,” you whisper.

“Hey, yerself,” he whispers back. His heart thuds in his chest.

“How was the drive here? All good?”

He huffs air through his nose. “Bokuto was drivin’. I think that’s answer enough. Could have died on the way here.”

He bites his lip when you laugh sweetly.

“Thank goodness you didn’t die. I would miss you terribly.”

He bites his lip a little harder.

“Yeah?”

“Of course I would. You’re kind of an important person to me, y’know?”

He doesn’t really know what to say in response. For once in his life, Atsumu keeps the smart replies for another time. Instead, he settles for smiling at you softly, heart fit to burst at the blush beginning to bloom like roses on your cheeks. He misses the knowing looks that Bokuto and Kuroo share, didn’t even notice when Bokuto steps back to give you space.

“Oh. You lot made it. Was hoping you’d crash.”

And just like that, whatever moment you had is shattered like glass.

He scowls dangerously, and it grows deeper when your expression falls away, returning to a timid state not unlike how you were in school. He stands up straight to look Daishou in the eye. The morning air turns a little colder. Daishou’s eyes narrow into slits as he stares disinterestedly at the group. The pup by your side keeps a watchful eye on Daishou, none too pleased with the interruption of his petting session.

“Mornin’. Always a pleasure to see ya,” Atsumu spits out from gritted teeth.

“Is it?” asks Kuroo, who sizes Daishou up with his own set of narrowed eyes.

“Kuroo,” Daishou greets.

“Asswipe,” he replies.

You sigh quietly. Daishou ignores the jab for now, lifts his bag higher up on his shoulder. It’s rich leather, looks designer, and makes Atsumu roll his eyes. It’s a training camp, not fashion week at Milan. “Ready for training week? If I’m being honest, seems like a bit of a waste of time, you know? I already spent enough time practicing with professionals, you know, because of the connections my dad has with the JVA? I don’t need an extra week of training when I already know I’m good.”

Atsumu tries to tone down his attitude with Daishou for your sake, but he really can’t help himself.

“Are ya sure ‘bout that?” he scoffs incredulously, thick brows lifting up to his hairline. “Think you’ll need the training camp more than we do.”

You call his name in warning, but he’s been annoyed with Daishou since the day he met him. He could do with being knocked down a few pegs, and Atsumu is more than ready to do it. 

(He wonders, at the back of his mind, if this is what he was like in school. It makes his skin crawl.)

“What do you mean by that exactly, Miya?” Daishou snarls. Atsumu rolls his shoulders in a show of arrogance, and cocks his head to the side with an insincere smile stretching his lips.

“Yer gonna be dropped as a starter if you don’t  _ improve,  _ is what it means.”

Daishou gets in his face instantly. Kuroo and Bokuto are by his side in a flash, and you stand up between them, arms outstretched and trying to put some distance between them. Even the dog starts growling at Daishou, fangs bared and prepared to pounce at the first sign of danger. Well, they always say animals are a good judge of character. 

“Guys, stop, please. Back off,” you plead, but it falls on deaf ears. Kuroo laughs while Bokuto grabs your hand and ushers you to his side where you both stay out of the confrontation. God bless Bokuto Koutarou for being a sweetheart. Atsumu makes a mental note to give him extra tosses today.

“He’s right,” Kuroo drawls. “I heard the coaches complaining about your performance. I guess money can buy you anything but skill.”

Daishou tuts loudly, and crosses his arms over his chest. “Oh yeah? I guess that must be why they’ve been switching you out for Mori instead the last few weeks.”

It’s meant to deter Kuroo, to insult him, and maybe it does because Kuroo  _ has  _ been seeing less and less game time on the court, but not because he’s  _ bad,  _ he’s just been dead tired studying as a med student and hasn’t been able to put his all into the sport. The second Kuroo gets rest, the coaches immediately put him back on the court because they  _ need  _ him. He’s one of their most valuable players. And Kuroo knows this, so he shrugs happily, and smirks.

“Eh, why not? If he plays better than me on the day, then it’s the best decision the coaches can make for the team. I’m not mad. You have no excuse, however, Mr ‘Plays with Professionals’. Clearly that hasn’t helped much.”

“This conversation is useless. I’d literally rather be doing anything else than talking to you.” He juts his chin out haughtily.

Kuroo hums for a moment. “Hmm, like bringing your lovely girlfriend here on a date?” He puts an arm on Atsumu’s shoulder so he can lean further into Daishou’s personal space. “Huh, speaking of dates, that Mika girl you used to see is free now, right? Think you can hook me up with her, since she’s single? She always was a total babe.”

Atsumu has no idea who this ‘Mika’ girl is, but the look on Daishou’s face as soon as the words pass Kuroo’s lips give him pause. 

Because Daishou’s nostrils flare in fury, and his brows practically glue themselves together with how hard he furrows them, and the disgust that floods his eyes is so potent that Astumu can almost feel it himself. Daishou looks downright  _ furious  _ with the notion of Kuroo dating this girl. And that’s just  _ very interesting.  _ Atsumu grows suspicious. You look on in curiosity too, and Atsumu has to wonder if Daishou even told you about this chick.

_ “Stay the fuck away from her,”  _ he spits so venomously, Atsumu begins to think he really  _ is  _ a snake. 

Kuroo pretends to put his hands up in mock surrender.

“Hey man, just asking, you know? She’s a single woman now, she doesn't have to answer to you anymore-”

“Yeah, and I said to fucking stay away from her. Besides, aren’t you dating that dumbass over there? Looks like you picked him up out of the trash can of a mental hospital. Match made in heaven, freak.”

Kuroo’s eyes flash dangerously.

“Yeah, I am. And watch what you say about him, got it?” Atsumu’s fists clench at his sides. You hold onto Bokuto’s hand, who looks mildy irritated by the insult, like he's holding back from baragging Daishou with his own set of insults, and whisper something in his ear before addressing Daishou.

“Suguru, that’s enough!”

He ignores you.

“I don’t get what you want with Mika but if you go near her I’ll break your kneecaps.”

“Wow, so defensive, Daishou. You should be focusin’ on your current girlfriend, not your ex, yeah?” Atsumu asks. He is  _ this  _ close to getting himself kicked out of training camp already by doing something violent and excessively painful to this shitstain of a man. He glances over to your face, expression taught with worry over the tension boiling between the men in front of you. He clenches his jaw in anger and faces Daishou again. “Ya already have the most perfect woman in the world right here. Dunno why she’s wastin’ her time with you, but you should count yerself lucky, so I suggest ya keep yer focus on her and not some chick you used to date. Got it?”

“We’re only joking, bro. Lighten up, would ya?” Kuroo adds with an infuriating smirk.

Daishou sneers, ready to pounce on Atsumu and he’s ready for the fight, but one of the goons he calls his friends grabs his attention, and his eyes flicker to the doors of the hotel.

“Come on, man! Get your room and get ready!”

His eyes return to Kuroo and Atsumu, roaming up and down their defensive stances, only to roll his eyes and hike his bag further up his shoulder.

“Don’t mess with me,” he says as a parting gift to the duo, and promptly turns on his heel, kicks lightly at a bag that Atsumu hadn’t noticed was placed beside the big outdoor plant. Atsumu sticks out his tongue and flips him the bird behind his back.

“C’mon babe, hurry up and leave these losers. And carry your bag, I don’t wanna have to carry your stuff, too.”

He leaves you behind when he enters the hotel, and you sigh heavily before picking up your bag. You turn to the boys awkwardly, looking apologetic.

“I’m  _ really _ sorry about him, guys. He gets annoyed easily, and he just…” you trail off, not sure how to explain Daishou’s reactions just then.

“Don’t apologise for him. We were just joking, didn’t know he’d be this cranky in the morning!” Bokuto jokes, always one to lighten the mood. It does bring a small smile to your face, though. Better than nothing. 

“Just...please go easy on him, guys. I don’t want him to be in a bad mood all week, it’s not good for anyone involved. Play nice, ok? I should get going. Good luck today guys, hope the coaches aren’t too hard on you.” 

Before you can get away, Atsumu takes hold of your wrist, and your head whips back around to meet his eyes. His thumb rubs lightly over the veins that meet the surface of your skin, like lightning on your flesh. 

“You gonna be ok with him?” Something about the way you mentioned Daishou’s mood rubbed him the wrong way. You offer him a lopsided smile - small, but sincere, and it helps dissuade some of the fears Atsumu felt.

“I’ll be fine. I’m a big girl. Besides,” you laugh lightly, cocking your head to the side. “If anything happened, I have you to protect me, right?”

He chuckles, reluctantly removes his hands from your wrist to scratch at the back of his neck.

“Of course. I’m yer knight in shinin’ armour.”

“Good, wouldn’t want anyone else,” you beam, and wave at the smirking men standing by Atsumu’s shoulders. “See you later, guys!”

With one last look at Atsumu, you disappear into the doors of the hotel. The dog whines beside Atsumu, staring forlornly at the automatic doors you just walked through, and Atsumu heaves his own sigh in agreement. He pats the dog sympathetically on its back, and offers some scratches to his head.

“Yeah, I’m sad she’s gone too, buddy. But be patient, maybe she’ll come back to ya.”

Bokuto chortles, and Atsumu frowns in confusion.

“You are so whipped, dude. It’s adorable! You need to confess your undying love for her and carry her off into the sunset.”

“Yeah, for the sake of our sanity, please,” Kuroo adds with a grin. “If you don’t marry her maybe Bokuto and I  _ will. _ ”

Atsumu rolls his eyes and swings his bag over his back, beginning to trundle his way into the hotel.

“Whatever, let’s just check in and get ready for today.”

Somehow Atsumu feels today will be a very,  _ very,  _ long day.

\---

Every muscle in Atsumu’s body hurts, but in a good way - a way that tells him that he worked hard, and his body is in tip top shape, an essential for any athlete. After a gruelling day of vigorous workouts, more volleyball games than he can count and flashing his best smiles to any top hotshot that comes his way, the dinner that awaits them in the hotel’s dining hall hits just the right spot in everyone’s empty bellies. The coaches have retreated to a different restaurant in the area, so the team is free to relax without the watchful and judgemental stares of the coaches and managers for the night.

The smell of cooked food makes him drool, the light and calming classical music playing through the hidden speakers is nearly enough to put him into a peaceful sleep, and your presence beside him while he sits surrounded by his friends at the table is just the cherry on top. He’s warm, happy, and couldn’t ask for a better evening. 

Shame about Daishou sitting on your other side, though.

At the long table, Suna sits to his right, head propped onto his fist and eyes threatening to close at any minute. Across from Suna and Atsumu sit Bokuto and Kuroo, of course, who so dutifully force Suna to keeps his eyes open with raucous laughter and lame jokes, the latter of which seemingly has you doubling over in laughter with tears coming out of your eyes, much to Bokuto’s delight. Having Daishou sit only a space away from Atsumu is almost enough to ruin his entire week, but the man seems to pay no attention to this side of the table altogether and instead has his back turned to you while he talks to his own friends. Atsumu thinks it’s rude as shit and disrespectful to you, but if it means he gets to spend more time with your attention on him instead, then he’ll just silently thank Daishou for being a prick.

An hour into the meal and the drinks were flowing ( _ ‘hey, it’s to celebrate the first night of training!’  _ someone said), and the volume slowly increased until all you could hear in the entire hall was a giant group of men shouting over each other in order to have a conversation. Bokuto is midway through an outrageous story of how he accidentally found his way to the red light district of Paris while on a trip with his parents when he was 13. 

(Atsumu’s arm is propped up on the back of your chair while you lean forward with avid interest over the story and he can imagine, if he tunes out the world around him and focuses on your intoxicating smell, on the smiles of his friends, on the happy atmosphere around him that wraps him up like a warm blanket, that this is how it should have been. This is how life should have went, if he wasn’t so stupid and fucked it all up. 

He mourns for lost opportunities.)

“I don’t believe you,” Suna tells him, shovelling rice into his mouth. 

“I’m telling you, it’s true! I got lost because when I was looking for the bathroom and walked down a street to look for my family, but then I noticed a bunch of women dancing in the windows!”

You laugh incredulously. “That’s insane, you were so young! What did you do?”

He grins, and chuckles bashfully, turning red. “I panicked. I was scared and didn’t know where I was going, there were so many naked women. I had never seen that many boobies in my life!”

“Sounds like a dream come true,” Atsumu mumbles into his glass, and snickers when you smack his stomach playfully with a roll of your beautiful eyes. “Is that when you had your gay awakening?” Bokuto cackles.

“I guess so, I mean, I was scared of the boobs. Broke down crying in the street until some nice lady of the night brought me back to where I told her my parents were. I owe her my life. Suppose you could say I never looked at another tiddy ever again.”

“‘Lady of the night’? Just call her a hooker, man,” Kuroo snorts, and Bokuto turns beet red. 

“I-I can’t! It seems too crude!”

“You’re so adorably innocent, Bokuto,” you coo, and Atsumu turns to raise a dark brow at your words, the smirk on his face growing.

“And you aren’t?”

You blush, but give him a smirk all the same, batting your lashes coquettishly. His stomach leaps and jumps over the hills.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m a badass.”

“I mean, that’s not how I remember you,” he snorts.

“You wouldn’t hurt a fly,” Suna pipes up from the other side of Atsumu. The table hums in agreement while you look on in amusement.

“Yeah! You’re super nice, I couldn’t imagine you doing anything mean. You’ve officially reached little sister status with us, you can do no wrong in our eyes.” Bokuto chimes in. Kuroo nods his head in agreement.

“That mean we get to beat up anybody who starts shit with her?” Atsumu asks.  _ Because he would love nothing more. _

“Hmm, I don’t know, guys,” Kuroo rubs his chin in thought like a professor. “She’s a bit of a tough cookie. Doesn’t take any of  _ your _ shit, anyway,” he laughs at Atsumu, who puffs out his cheeks, miffed. “She’s definitely thick skinned. Would have to be if she’s dealing with someone like Daishou every day.”

At that, Atsumu turns to you with a warm smile, one that crinkles the corners of his eyes and exudes affection. “No doubt about it. She’s the toughest of us all. Honestly, kinda wish I was more like you. And that’s sayin’ a lot, because I’m  _ perfect,  _ y’know?”

You giggle and smile bashfully, toying with the edges of your plate and ducking beneath the weight of Atsumu’s gaze. “Stop, you guys…”

“Yeah seriously, stop. It’s making me sick.”

Any warmth in his body has now vanished into thin air as he watches Daishou roughly pull your chair closer to his body and wrap his arm around your shoulders. Atsumu’s arm falls limply from the back of your chair, and you look down at the table awkwardly, a sad furrow to your brows. Atsumu glares, Kuroo scowls, Bokuto frowns, and even Suna throws him a dirty look.

Now that Daishou is facing his direction, Atsumu is nearly knocked out clean by the strong stench of alcohol wafting from his breath. His eyes are hazy, and his movements slow and sluggish, but his classic sneer remains untouched. Daishou is undeniably drunk. It makes Atsumu roll his eyes. He seems to do that a lot in Daishou’s presence.

“Ya sure it ain’t the five hundred bottles of beer you chugged?”

Daishou lifts his glass, and swiftly downs the rest of the amber liquid swirling inside. 

“F-Funny, Miya. You’re  _ real _ funny. Sure seem to make my girlfriend laugh a  _ lot,  _ dontcha?” he slurs, gives the arm holding you a shake. You jolt in shock at the movement, and Atsumu sits up a little straighter. In the corner of his eye, he sees the others doing the same. 

“Yeah, blessed as a comedian the day I was born,” he pauses, mulling over whether to provoke him because of how annoying he’s been. His eyes flicker to the arm wrapped possessively around your shoulders. He starts planting sloppy kisses down the column of your neck, and you look like you want nothing more than to crawl into a hole and die. The sight makes Atsumu violently ill, and alight with anger. And he says fuck it. “Bet I could make yer ex laugh laugh real pretty, too.”

It takes a moment for the lights to turn on in his head, but once they do, Atsumu suddenly finds his collar gripped and pulled towards Daishou’s body as he bares his fangs like a viper, a foul smell of piss poor beer making Atsumu’s eyes water. Your body was jostled in the abrupt movement, and you slam into his chest, making his arms reach out and hold you protectively before you get hurt by this asshole you call your boyfriend.  _ Seriously,  _ Atsumu knows he’s no catch after what he did to you, but choosing Daishou? Really?

“ _ What the fuck did you just say?” _

“You have two seconds t’get off me before I break yer jaw,” Atsumu growls quietly. Daishou’s friends look on worriedly, but make no move to interfere.  _ So much for friends.  _ Atsumu is suddenly hit with a fleeting sensation of gratefulness to the friends he has, understands loyalty is strong when even Suna looks ready to stop Daishou. 

You start pushing at Daishou to move him backwards, sending one strong push to his chest that has him losing his balance and flopping back into his seat. 

“Suguru, stop it. Seriously, you’re acting like a child! You need to stop starting fights!”

“Hey, man, maybe you should calm down,” Bokuto warns uneasily.

“Daishou take a step back, you’re drunk,” says Suna.

He looks at you in disgust and betrayal, and Atsumu’s foot subconsciously hooks into the leg of your chair and drags you subtly closer to his side. 

“Why? Why do you always defend him? Why am I always the one in the wrong?”

“Suguru, please-”

“Give it up, dickhe-” Kuroo starts.

“ _ No!”  _ he yells, sitting up straighter to level you with a stare so icy, it halts whatever you were going to say. His voice is attracting stares, and you’re beginning to wilt underneath the attention, eyes shifting about from person to person. The sight is so agonisingly familiar, and Atsumu scoots closer and places a hand on your back, a show of solidarity, a show of comfort. He feels you lean into his touch.

“What is it about this bleached piece of shit, huh? Why do you waste your time with him?” Spittle flies from his mouth, the droplets landing on your face harshly, and you flinch. Atsumu openly pulls you to his side, but it doesn’t stop Daishou.

“Oi, shut the fuck up-”

“Why are you so  _ hung up on him?  _ Are you sleeping with him?” he accuses, and you look utterly offended, anger clouding your expression and an embarrassed flush making its way up your neck. Atsumu sees nothing but  _ red,  _ feels the veins beneath his skin thrum in fury, hands curling into fists. He is so fucking  _ done  _ with Daishou. How dare he accuse you,  **_you_ ** , of cheating. The table erupts with noise as they all verbally attack Daishou, coming to your defense.

“Say that again ‘n I’ll knock yer fuckin’ teeth out!” Atsumu bellows, standing up in a flash and staring down at him in disdain. Daishou rises from his chair and squares up to him, the two men nearly touching nose to nose. Like earlier today, you meet them in the middle and try to separate them, but it does little to alleviate the tension threatening to choke everyone.

“ _ Stop it!  _ I’ve never cheated on you! Stop fighting, please!” You sound desperate, voice wobbly and croaking. “Stop this right now!”

Daishou looks at you then, and in a cold tone, says:

“Stay out of this, you cheating  _ whore.” _

It’s the final nail in his coffin.

Atsumu raises his fists faster than he can process, and it comes down hard on his jaw. With sick satisfaction, he watches Daishou fall like a house of cards, and it’s only then his friends move into action, working to hold Daishou back as he scrambles to get up and attack Atsumu.

Atsumu gladly welcomes it, prepares to deliver another punch to this worthless sack of shit but Bokuto and Suna step into his line of vision and usher him back. He points a finger at Daishou’s pathetic form on the ground, clutching a bruising jaw.

“You ever fuckin’ say that shit again or do anythin’ to hurt her,  _ I’ll kill you.  _ You hear me? I’ll fuckin’ kill you!”

“Atsumu,” you whimper, and he only now sees the tears flooding in your eyes. Before he can act, you rush past him and out of the dining hall, presumably back to the room you share with Daishou. Bokuto pats him on the back, urging him to run after you.

“Go man, we’ll cover for your dinner,” Kuroo says, and Atsumu barely has time to mumble out a thank you before he’s sprinting after you, away from the mess in the hall.

He hopes with all his heart that you aren’t angry with him. The thought puts an anchor of fear around his neck, weighs him down until he’s struggling to lift one foot after the other in the direction of your room. 

But he can’t think about that now.

All he can think about is you.

(What a great start to training week, huh?)

\---

“Hey, Futakuchi! Can I ask a favour?”

This evening was, to put it bluntly, messy. Dramatic and amusing, Kuroo will admit, but messy in a way that things escalated way beyond what Kuroo and Bokuto had wanted. Did they want to annoy Daishou and make Atsumu seem like the No.1 Man in the world in hopes that you’d wake up and run into the arms of the man you love? Of course.

Did they want Atsumu to throw a punch at the pretty little rich boy? 

Internally,  _ hell fucking yes,  _ but externally, of course not.

Kuroo can only hope that the coaches don’t catch wind of what Atsumu did because he’ll be in deep shit. Kuroo knows how much volleyball means to Atsumu, jeopardising his career just before it kicks off would honestly kill him as much as it would Atsumu.

Not long after both you and Atsumu had run off, Daishou sent one last withering glare at the group before stalking off like a wounded soldier claiming he needed a smoke, nursing a jaw that Kuroo honestly hopes is broken. If it shuts Daishou up for even five seconds he’d consider it a blessing and bow down to Atsumu for life.

Leaving Bokuto and Suna to deal with the rest of the teammates, Kuroo ran after Futakuchi with a plan in mind.

Brown bangs whip around to face the voice addressing him, body halfway out the door of the dining room with a bottle of beer in hand. He raises a suspicious brow at Kuroo’s saccharine smile.

“What do you want from me?”

How curt.

“Aww, don’t be like that! We’re friends, aren’t we-”

“Look, don’t ruin my buzz. Just say whatever you wanna say so I can continue my drink in peace.”

Kuroo snorts, but acquiesces nonetheless. “I need you to talk to Daishou.”

Futakuchi laughs in disbelief. “You want me to talk to that bastard? No, not in the mood. He deserves that punch Miya landed on him. Go talk to him yourself.”

He makes to leave, but Kuroo grabs a hold of his shirt, pulls him back. 

“Please, I need you to talk to him for me. He won’t even look at me, so I need to get this information from someone else.”

Futakuchi narrows his eyes. “What the hell do you want to know?”

“To be honest with you, I want to know about his girlfriend. Why he’s actually with her.” A pause as Kuroo ponders whether to share this portion of the story, but shrugs, and says it anyway. “His girlfriend is a friend of mine, and I think he’s cheating on her. But I want to get confirmation from the horse’s mouth before I say anything to her.” Futakuchi’s face dawns in realisation, but it quickly morphs into an expression of unease. 

“Prick.” Kuroo hums in agreement. “But what’s in it for me?”

“Being revered by all as being a decent human being?”

“Meh, you’re gonna have to try harder than that.”

“Fine, I’ll buy you five bags of sour gummies.”

Futakuchi takes a sip of his beer as he decides whether or not the bribe was worth taking. With the light shrug of his shoulders, apparently it was.

“Fine, but I want them as soon as possible. And I don’t see how Daishou is going to just tell me if he’s cheating, we’re not exactly close.”

“Of course, I always pay my debts. I’m a good person,” Kuroo smirks, to which Futakuchi rolls his eyes and begins to head in the direction of the smoking area. “Plus he’s drunk and never passes up the opportunity to talk about himself. You don’t have to do anything, just ask about her. I’ll be listening from somewhere else. Gain his trust, maybe insult us a bit, you know?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Futakuchi grins. As he heads out of the glass doors, Kuroo takes position behind a wall to the side of the open doors, where he can hear everything perfectly. If he tilts his head to the side, he can even see a bit of Daishou as he shuffles around, cigarette in hand. Sweet. 

“Hey Daishou. What a night, huh?” Futakuchi greets, trying and failing to sound casual. Kuroo sighs. “Does your jaw hurt-”

“It’s fine.”

“But I mean, it was a pretty solid punc-”

“ _ I said it’s fine.” _

Daishou groans, snorting and spitting on the ground. Lovely. “Hate that fucking Miya. Who the fuck does he think he is? And his friends too, where do they get off on being absolute dickheads?”

Futakuchi whistles, and Kuroo can hear the beer sloshing in the bottle as he laughs awkwardly. “Yeah, bunch of weirdos, am I right?“

“You’re damn right,” Daishou snorts. “They all belong in an institute.  _ Freaks. _ ”

“Yeah. Especially hate Kuroo. What a stupid fucking haircut.”

_ Careful, Futakuchi. Any more and you’ll have lost yourself a bag of gummies. _

“I want to set that bastard on fire and piss on his grave,” Daishou murmurs. Yikes. Remind Kuroo to steal Daishou’s lighter from him.

“...A-Anyway,” Futakuchi clears his throat. Another swig from the bottle. “Sorry to hear about what happened tonight with your girl. That’s a tough deal.” From Kuroo’s position, he can see Daishou light another cigarette. He takes a puff, and exhales loudly.

“Honestly, I don’t give a shit about her, I’m sick of dealing with her whiny ass.”

Kuroo scowls. If this wasn’t about to give Kuroo some juicy details, he’d go out there and deliver another punch to the opposite jaw. “Oh?” Futakuchi asks in surprise. “Well why not just leave her then? Find some other girl.”

Daishou chuckles cruelly. “Oh, I already  _ have  _ another girl. At this point, I’m just keeping her around as a warm body more than anything, you know?”

Silence from Futakuchi. Daishou scoffs and rolls his eyes.

“Come on, you get me, don’t you? Sure she’s nice and all but I’m not looking for anything serious with her.”

“...Right.” Another long gulp of his beer. “How did you get with her, then?”

“My roommate saw her move in and made a bet that I couldn’t get with her in under two weeks. Showed him wrong,” he says smugly, and Kuroo wants to wring his neck. Daishou’s words slur in the slightest. Clearly that punch hadn’t sobered him up completely. “Was going to end it as soon as I could but- well, you understand, right? We’re guys, and when we see a hot girl with a hot body- well. Alpha’s need to sate their urges, and all that.”

Kuroo wants to fucking puke.

“Jesus,” Futakuchi murmurs in bewilderment. Daishou powers on, his high coming back as he attempts to sound like the top dog, God’s gift to women. What a joke.

“And you know what they say- the quiet ones are always the wildest in bed. I wanted to see how freaky this chick could get. I found the whole wide-eyed, innocent and broken thing kinda hot-”

“I get it,” Futakuchi interrupts, voice laced with disgust but Daishou doesn’t notice. Or if he does, he doesn’t care. “You said you had another girl, right? When did you start things with her?”

“Oh, that other girl was my ex. Yeah, we broke things off for like, a month or two before college started but it wasn’t serious. Started seeing her again like a month after getting with my current girlfriend.”

“So she’s a side piece?”

“My ex? Eh, I’d say the one crying her eyes out upstairs is the side piece,” he snorts.

Kuroo is determined, now more than ever, to see you and Atsumu married and with children by the end of the week while he gets sent to jail for first degree murder of one Daishou Suguru.

“And does your ex know about her?”

“Oh, sure she does. She thinks it’s kind of hot, doing the whole sneaking around thing.”

Shame on you, Mika. Kuroo thought she was better than that.

(But Kuroo is beginning to think that people are, inherently, cruel to their core. Some just hide it better than others, it seems.)

Futakuchi seems to have had enough, gulping the rest of his beer in one go and setting it aside on the stone ledge. ”I...I’m going to bed.”

Daishou takes a long drag. “Alright, man. See you tomorrow.”

Futakuchi says nothing to him in response. When he notices Kuroo hiding by the wall, he grabs him by the shoulder and hauls him out of sight down the hallway. Before Kuroo can voice his complaints, Futakuchi lets him go, and rubs a hand down his face warily. He points a finger at Kuroo’s face, who eyes it with concern.

“You make sure that girl is away from that sick motherfucker as soon as possible,” he demands, and Kuroo crosses his fingers over his heart.

“You have my word on that.”

Futakuchi throws one last look in the direction where Daishou is, and shakes his head before moving off to go to his room.

“What a bastard,” are his parting words, and Kuroo wholeheartedly agrees.

_ What a bastard indeed.  _

\---

It took Atsumu longer than he’d like to admit to knock on the door of the room you share with Daishou. 

He stands there, stuck between pacing the floor and burning holes into the cream carpet, or simply standing stock still, hoping that you’d somehow sense he was there, take initiative and open the door.

He’s unable to gauge how your reaction to seeing him will be. Will you be elated, jump into his arms and cry with happiness? Or will it be rage, anger at the mess he has a knack for making and send him away with his tail tucked in between his legs? 

He hopes for the former, expects the latter.

(Things were so much easier underneath the summer sun when he could do no wrong.)

He holds his breath, raises a fist, knocks on the door, refrains from collapsing with anxiety.

He hears shuffling coming from the other side of the wooden door, and before he can lose his nerve and run, it cracks open enough for your head to peep out. You blink in surprise.

“Oh. You’re not Daishou.”

“Thank God for that,” he snorts.

You don’t laugh.

His eyes search your face as you stare blankly at the collar of his hoodie. He notes that you seem to have stopped crying but the evidence is clear as day on your face; eyes and nose puffy and as red as cherry, and streaks of tears that run down your face like silver rivers, dried and rough on your cheeks. He debates with himself whether he should run back downstairs and give Daishou a shiner. 

But the man is like a weed, the more you fuss with him, the worse he’ll come back, and Atsumu would rather spend his time cradling a precious rose like you instead of dirtying his hands any longer.

“Jus’ wanted to check how yer doin’” he mumbles, suddenly feeling awkward as he shuffles and eyes the barrier you keep between you.

“I’m doing about as well as expected,” you say in response, sniffling. You smile wryly. “It’s weird. Last year barely anyone would look my way unless it was to bully me, and now people are fighting over me. I’d call that character development.”

Atsumu huffs through his nose, rolls his eyes. “Wouldn’t call it much of a fight. More of a disagreement.”

“You literally punched him.”

“Yeah, ‘n I’d do it again in a heartbeat if he says shit like that about ya once more.”

You shake your head, but he’s pleased to see you don’t look angry with him, just tiredly amused.

“Thank you.”

He tries for a joke again. Anything, just to see a genuine smile from you right now.

“Not really common for girls to thank the guy that punched their boyfriend. I think yer s’posed to be screaming at me.”

“Thanks for defending me, stupid,” your lips tilt up at the edges, your eyes a little less dim. It’s a start. He snorts again in self deprecation. 

“‘Bout time I did it.”

You frown sadly at that.

Atsumu moves on before the weight of your stare causes him to crumple up like paper.

“Want to talk about what happened? Need a shoulder to lean on? If ya don’t want mine, I’m sure Bo would be happy to give ya a big hug. Don’t tell ‘im I said this, but he gives great hugs and he’s beefy. You’ll love it.”

You chuckle, and your smile gets wider. Slow and steady wins the race, he thinks. Not often advice he follows, but it’s the best he can take right now.

“I think I’d prefer you, as great as that sounds,” you say, and it’s embarrassing the way his heart skips a beat. “I was actually going to take a walk to clear my head, grab some snacks. Can you come with me? I just...I don’t want to be near him right now.”

“‘Course I will, ya dummy. I’m not leavin’ you alone tonight.” He extends an arm, like a prince waiting for the princess to take his arm so he can spin her around on the dancefloor. “We’ll take the back entrance so he won’t see us.”

You step out from the door and close it gently behind you, arm raised to link with his but he stops you. In a swift movement, he tugs his hoodie off, and hands it wordlessly to you. You stare in confusion, not taking the hoodie from his hands, and he sighs softly in exasperation, doing the job for you and tugging the material over your head until it’s swimming around your form. You shift your arms through the sleeves, and he’s pleased when you look just as adorable as you did before with sweater paws. 

He blushes, and smirks, nodding to himself and holding his arm out once more for you to take.

“...why-?”

“‘Cause it’s kinda cold out, obviously.”

“But...won’t you be cold?”

You finally wrap your arm around his, and he tugs you close to his body, beginning your journey down the halls and out of the hotel.

“I’ll be fine,” he reassures, throwing you a wink. “I’m hot stuff, remember?”

You scoff, but say no more as you walk silently side by side.

The night sky is sprinkled with dozens of stars, so different from the hustle and bustle of the Tokyo night sky, where the artificial lights from towering buildings create false stars in a city that never seems to sleep.

His hands are linked behind his head as he gets lost in the world up above, trusting you to keep him safe from harm as you guide him through winding paths, footsteps gently pitter-pattering on the cobblestones.

“Stars look nice tonight,” he murmurs, more so to himself, yet you hum in agreement.

“Nice to know that even if everything changes, at least some things stay the same.”

He smiles wryly.

Comfortable silence ensues as you lead him further and further away from the hotel - out of sight, out of mind. He stops himself from getting too distracted by the sight of you enveloped in his hoodie, or getting lost in the day dream of seeing you wear nearly every article of clothing he owns, wearing it better than he ever could, lest he lose track of you. He finally deigns to ask where the hell you’re taking him.

“You’re not leadin' me down a dark alley to kill me, are ya?”

You laugh slightly, eyes on the signs littering the walls of shops and houses. The further you go, the shadier the place gets, looking less and less like the middle class own area surrounding the hotel and gym and more so like the back alley of a ghost town. It’s seen better days, that’s for sure, and he isn’t sure if it would look better in the sunlight, either, as the cracked walls and sprouting weeds thrive in the masses, and the dim street lights do very little to actually light the path in front of your face. Still, you’re nonplussed by the environment, and continue on.

“No, I’m not. I’ll save that for another day.” He snorts, his hands making their way to his pockets as the evening chill begins to creep onto his skin. “This area isn’t as bad as it looks. I found it when I was exploring today, had a lot of free time while you were training. The people in this area are really kind, like a big family, and they have this amazing convenience store which should be right- here!”

Evidently the brightest source of light in the entire area, the convenience store stands in the middle of a small plaza; modest in size but not in colour, painted in the most vibrant hues of green and yellow. As you both walk through the ringing door of the shop, you respectfully greet the little old lady who sits by the cash register, an old TV set playing the latest soap opera. She smiles brightly in response, and goes back to her evening entertainment. 

“Wow, this is...a lot,” Atsumu muses, a brow raised at the stacks and aisles of treats, a rainbow of sugar and health problems. Some are familiar, some are foreign. You immediately grab handfuls until your arms are overloaded and your head just stays visible above a box of green tea pocky sticks. His stare holds a tiny amount of judgement. You blush.

“What? You know I eat when I’m stressed.”

He snickers, grabs a giant bag of jellybeans from the shelf for himself. 

“You remind me of Samu sometimes. Dumb.”

You grin widely, and he’s glad that the worries of the evening are already beginning to wear off.

The old lady says nothing of the overabundance of sweets you hand to her, simply scans and puts them into a bag and gives your total. In a flash, Atsumu has taken out his wallet and hands her over the required Yen. You look scandalised, try to slap his hand away but he whips it out of the way with a laugh.

“Atsumu, what are you doing?”

“Paying for yer junk, whatsit look like?” He smiles brightly like a brat.

You puff out your cheeks and huff in annoyance. He feels a sweet sense of familiarity wash over him. It almost reminds him of summer.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Yeah, but I’m gonna do it anyw- oi, stop!  _ Ow! _ ” You jump for the money, but he’s too tall, and you accidentally smack his face instead. You look like you feel bad, but your stubbornness won’t let you back down.

“Sorry! But I can pay for my own stuff, so put your money away  _ now. _ ”

“I know, but I want to. So shut up and lemme pay!”

“No!

“ _ Yes!” _

“You’re so annoying!”

“Well, so are you!”

The old lady laughs, and you both are suddenly brought back to reality. Atsumu lowers his arm lamely from it’s upright position, and you flush with humiliation. 

“You two are just too sweet,” she takes the money from Atsumu’s hands, and he smirks in triumph while you roll your eyes heavenward with a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “You both remind me a little of my husband and I when we were your age- ha! A troublesome pair. He’d surely make fun of the both of you if he were still here.”

She smiles wistfully, and passes the large bag to Atsumu, who lets it hang off his wrist. “Ah, to be young and in love again.” She waves a threatening finger at Atsumu’s face, and you eye it with amusement. “You treat her well, boy. You hear me?” You make to correct her.

“Oh, we’re no-”

“‘Course I will, Granny,” he beams with a blush, and places his free hand on the small of your back. You look at him strangely, but don’t correct him either. You just keep your mouth shut, and smile the smallest smile. The lady laughs, and you both bid her goodnight, stepping out into the cool air once more, his hand never once leaving your back as he dares to step closer.

“So...you headin’ back now?”

(He really doesn’t want you to go back, to go running into the arms of that wretched snake, to sleep knowing you’re keeping warm with someone that isn’t him.

His heart sighs in agony.)

“No.” Your answer catches him off guard. “I’m not ready to look at him again. There’s a park nearby, want to come sit with me?” Your eyes widen abruptly. “I mean, you probably shouldn’t, you still have practice tomor-”

“No point askin’ when you already know my answer,” he flicks your forehead gently. You wrinkle your nose, but look immensely grateful. “Lead the way.”

Once more you walk side by side beneath the watchful gaze of the stars, and he registers in his mind that this is the most normal he has felt in a very,  _ very  _ long time. Atsumu is the furthest thing from normal, but  _ this?  _ Atsumu could definitely do with more normal in his life. 

He’s all too aware of the soft swaying of your arms, so close and yet so far, and it’s all he can focus on. You stare straight ahead, and he stares at the ground, and he feels the sleeve of his hoodie brush against his own, feels the occasional graze of your fingers on his. 

He thinks of Kuroo’s words, about doing something, and says  _ fuck it.  _ He’ll do it.

His fingers, long and slender, slowly but surely edge their way towards your own, and all the blood in his body rushes to his ears until all he can hear is the pumping of blood in his veins, the heavy beating of his heart. He risks a glance at your face to see you still keep your eyes in front of you, but he spots the blush lighting your cheeks, the goofy smile beginning to bloom on your face.

_ This is...this is definitely good.  _ He feels like he’s about to explode.

And when your fingers begin to reach for his, slow and uncertain, he’s about ready to drop dead from happiness overload. He gets bolder, his fingers now attempting to link with your own, and you invite him in, and he’s so stupidly happy at this little development that he can’t help the soft grin that stretches his lips, that he slowly starts to make the journey with his hands so you’re palm to palm and holding hands properly, so lost in the fluttering in his belly that he-

He walks, full force, into a pole. Into a  _ fucking pole.  _

The hollow, metallic clang that rings out after the impact is nearly as loud as his wails of pain and shame, clutching at his face while you flutter around him worriedly.

This is so fucking  _ embarrassing.  _ Atsumu is positive he is going to think about this for weeks, and it makes it all the worse knowing you saw it, especially when he was trying to do something romantic and try edge his way back into your heart and-

_ WHY? WHY HIM? WAS HE BORN JUST TO  _ **_SUFFER_ ** _? _

He can’t look at you because he will die on the spot from embarrassment, and weakly pushes you away from him when you try to inspect his face. 

"Oh my-! Atsumu! Are you ok?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, nothin' happened!"

His voice is muffled behind his hands, and he turns this way and that when you come close to his face to suss out his injuries. He doesn't want you to see the tears swimming on his brown orbs because-

This fucking  _ hurts.  _ He will  _ never  _ recover from this.

"Just let me see!"

"No, I'm good! Swear!" His voice cracks towards the end and another wave of humiliation washes over him.

You tut, and start tugging him by the elbow.

"Look, the park is just there. Let's find a bench so I can get a look at your face."

He groans and he moans the entirety of the short walk there, and you set him down on the wooden seat, fingers prying his hands apart, but he still refuses to show you. A pinch to his underarm makes him jump in surprise and let go of his face, where you take the opportunity to hold his face up to the moonlight to suspect the damage.

You lean in with squinted eyes, and suddenly all air leaves his lungs. He almost forgot how delicate your touch was, how sweet and gentle your hands can be, a stark contrast to how he’s treated by everyone else. He thinks he's falling in love all over again.

“Looks like you’re going to bruise on your forehead,” you whisper, and your thumb rubs lightly over the mark to soothe his pain. 

“Seems like yer always patchin’ me up,” he jokes, but is too awestruck for the joke to hold any real meaning, to even smile, too busy with his mouth parted open. You smile tenderly, giving one last swipe of your thumb across his forehead before moving to sit beside him, the bag of treats placed on the ground between both pairs of feet.

“Seems like it.”

You offer him some chocolate, and he pops some into his mouth, chewing silently while he works to get himself under control.

“So, am I hideously deformed now?”

“No, you’re still as handsome as ever."

The butterflies flap up a storm in his stomach. His smile must look pretty stupid, too, but you just chuckle.

For the nth time that night, comfortable silence wraps over you both, a familiar embrace, one he only knows with you. You trade candy and pig out to your heart's content, gazing at the diamonds in the sky, listening to the gentle brushing of leaves as the wind blows through the trees, the busy bugs going about their nightly business. 

He thinks on the events earlier today, and feels the need to apologise.

"Sorry for what happened. Didn't mean to make a scene and embarrass ya."

"It's ok. Could have done without the dramatics but it's in the past now."

He crosses his legs, scowls at nothing in particular.

"I meant what I said, y'know," you turn to him in confusion. "That I'd punch 'im again," he clarifies, and you bite at the corner of your lip, looking away.

"Atsumu…"

"I'm serious. He's supposed to be yer boyfriend, and yet he treats you like that? He's a fuckin' joke, dunno what ya see in him."

"He's nice…" you argue weakly, but he isn't buying it.

"Clearly we know two different guys 'cause Daishou ain't nice."

You don't say anything to that, and Atsumu takes it to mean you're too nice to bad mouth that turd you call a boyfriend.

You lean your head on his shoulder, and he welcomes the contact, tilting his own head of bleached locks so it rests on yours. It's intimate, and it makes his heart beat heavily in his chest, especially when you snuggle closer to his side so he can get a taste of your warmth in the chilly air.

"I'm just tired of people treating me like this," you mumble sadly into his shoulder. He frowns, feels his heart split in two all over again. He places his hand over your knee, rubs smoothing circles into the fabric of your jeans.

"You deserve so much better than someone like him," he tells you, open and honestly. He has tried to keep his peace with you being with Daishou, but the man clearly doesn’t care for you in the way that he should. If Atsumu has to suffer through watching you be in love with someone that isn’t him, he’d rather it be anyone but Daishou. “You deserve someone who will love ya with all yer perfect flaws, and treat ya like the better half of them. You deserve to be shown nothin’ but all the love in the world.”

“...and who would that someone be? You?” You ask quietly, not once lifting your head from where it’s perched on his shoulder. His heart stops in his chest, and the air around him seems to disappear. His fingers tremble ever so slightly, and he licks his lips, bracing himself for the words that seem to be the hardest, most nerve-wracking things he’ll ever push past his lips.

“...it could be.”

Fuck. He actually said it.

(He feels like he’s drowning, somehow, but he isn’t sure if the waters are sweet, or deadly. Depends on what you make them.)

In what feels like forever, you tilt your head upwards, chin resting on his shoulder now as you gaze up at him, face so close and filtering through emotions he can’t discern so quickly, like the flame of a candle flickering wildly, offset by the softest breeze. He feels like you’re both stuck in time, frozen beneath the moon, beneath the twinkling stars, beneath this air of comfort you have created.

“I- I feel like I’ve changed. Since then, I mean. Learned from my mistakes,” he grimaces lightly. “Kinda took the only person I care about walkin’ outta my life for me to see it. And I’m sorry I was too late learnin’ it. I’m sorry for everything I did.”

His eyes drop to your lips, to your precious lips that he thought about a million times and then some, soft petals upon his skin and lighting a path of fire with every touch. He gulps. 

(He thinks of the first time he kissed you, of how lost he was in everything that you are, everything that makes you perfect.

Funny how life often comes back full circle.)

“I missed you so much,” he whispers, because it’s the truth, and it will hold more weight than you could ever know. If anything, ‘miss’ seems like an understatement for how agonisingly hollow he felt without you by his side. You blink, and- is your face moving closer?

“I missed you so much, too. So,  _ so much _ ,” you reply, and with careful, slow movements, you press your lips to his, and suddenly his world disappears, because all he knows, feels, breathes, is  _ you,  _ and it’s like he’s brought back from the brink of death.

Snapping out of his shock, he returns the kiss in kind, pressing a little bit harder, a little bit more passionately, and his free hand reaches up to cradle your jaw, tilts your head so he can allow himself to be selfish, to take in more of you.

Your own hands intertwine in locks of his hair, like they were always meant to be there, and your kisses turn feverish, desperate, and he matches your emotions every step of the way:

Relief, longing, love.

Love.

_ Love. _

But just as he tugs you closer, onto his lap, just as you let out the quietest but most heavenly moan he has the grace of hearing once more, you pull back, with a face full of conflict, and whatever high he was on begins to fade away, floats up the stars to become one of them; another spark of hope turned to ash.

“W-We shouldn’t,” you croak, voice heavy with emotion. His heart resumes its beating, but it’s weak, a dull beat echoing in his chest. Because you’re right - you’re taken for, and possibly proving to Daishou that his accusations were true. “It’s not right, I can’t- I want to- but,” you take a deep breath, a distressed crease to your face. “I’m sorry, I’m so sor-”

“Oi, it’s ok.”

_ It isn’t. _

“We should get back. It’s late.”

_ I don’t want to leave this moment, not now, not ever. _

You nod your head, and hastily move to pick up the bag of candy with a sniffle. But still, you pause, and look into the distance where the hotel would be with worry. Atsumu slowly rises to his feet, readjusts his clothes less than enthusiastically. He catches your gaze.

“You can stay in my bed, if you want.”

Your eyes widen.

“To get away from him, I mean. Bed is huge, and I can sleep on the floor if you ain’t comfortable with sharin’” he explains, and realisation dawns on your face, along with apprehension. He already knows your answer before you say it.

“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea…”

“Is it better stayin’ with him?”

“I can handle him,” and before he can protest, you add: “If he tries anything, I’ll come straight to your room, ok? I promise.”

He isn’t happy with it, but it’s the most he’ll get, so he reluctantly agrees, and the two of you begin your journey back to the hotel, but instead of the comfortable silence from a while ago, the air is melancholic, tinged with sadness and longing. He hates it. 

Reaching the entrance, you tug off his hoodie and pass it back to him with a sad smile.

“Thanks for this- and for tonight. You really helped me.”

You trail off awkwardly, but he flashes a smirk, bereft of any true emotion, his mask slipping on once more.

“No problem. Whaddya gonna do for the week? Hardly want to stay, do you?”

“I actually texted Samu to pick me up after what happened. He said he’s gonna drive here and get me in the morning.”

Atsumu doesn’t want to be deprived of seeing your beautiful face every day, but it’s a small price to pay for getting you away from that asshole. Sacrifice. He nods, sighs, and puts his hoodie back on.

“Stay safe, make sure ya come to me if he does sumn’.”

“I will. Night, Tsumu. I’ll see you around.” 

With a quick hug, you leave him standing outside alone. 

He sits on the steps and stares upwards, ignoring the buzzing of his phone in his pocket (most likely Bokuto or Kuroo.) His jumper smells so tragically like you, now, and he has to refrain from letting the tightness of his throat get to him, or else he’ll start crying pathetically right here, right now.

(Still, he marks this night down in his mind to remember.

It’s bittersweet, but he doesn’t stop thinking about it for weeks, and every time he spots a rare star amidst the bright, blaring lights of Tokyo City, he smiles, and he feels home. He feels  _ you,  _ because you are his home.)

The gentle clattering of nails on concrete reach his ears, and he sees the stray from earlier today move to his side in search of more pats. His smile is glum, but he runs his fingers through the ragged fur.

“She didn’t come back to ya yet, bud?” A whine. “‘S ok, try again another day.”

\---

The next morning, he sees Osamu waiting on the steps, swinging his keys on his fingers and looking tired. He greets him with his own sort of exhaustion slowing him down, and not too long after, you arrive, bag in hand and looking very much tired and done with the world. 

Seems like everyone is just tired.

Daishou says not a word as he passes either one of you, spares no glance towards you at all, like you don’t exist, and stalks off with his friends for his morning coffee. Atsumu and Osamu give him the most hateful glare they can, and he must feel it at the back of his neck, because he walks faster until he’s out of sight.

Osamu scoffs, and looks over at his twin, pointing to his jaw.

“Good job,” he praises, and it makes Atsumu laugh a bit. You pretend not to hear and allow Osamu to put your bag in his car.

You and Atsumu barely say anything to each other, awkwardly hovering near each other.

Kuroo, Bokuto and Suna run out just in time to say their goodbyes and check on how you’re doing, and with one last  _ ‘safe travels’  _ from the group, Osamu's car pulls away from the hotel, with you waving from the front seat, your eyes lingering on Atsumu for longer than necessary until you’re gone.

He sighs. Kuroo pats his back.

“Patience; all good things come to those who wait.”

Yeah.

(He’s not sure how much more waiting he can do before it breaks him.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again thanks for reading!
> 
> also gonna shamelessly plug my other atsumu fic again so if atsumu and apocalypse au's are your cup o' tea then mayhaps give [this a read?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25230049/chapters/61156900)


	9. the advice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well WOULD YA LOOK AT THAT?? I finally updated!! i miss when i used to upload a chapter a week, damn those were the good days.  
> i can't be more sorry for how long it took to get this chapter out, and i hope you haven't lost interest in this story!! i just suffered from writers block which is why i took to writing some other stuff to work it out of my system, and i also got really busy for like a week straight it was bizarre lol  
> ...i also kinda got obsessed with obey me after i downloaded but can i get a hoyeah from any mammon bitches out there hell yeah what a man.  
> also did you see the e-boy fits the some of the haikyuu characters got because of the new clothing line thing? the miya twins...sigh...yes please....AND SMOL KITA?? I CAN'T DEAL  
> anyway enjoy and once again i'm so sorry feel free to yell at me!! feedback is always appreciated!

“What do you wa- oh. You’re not Daishou.”

“Is this becomin’ a trend?”

When the dorm’s standard cream door swung open, your roommate Himari stood there in all her blue-haired, tattooed splendour, all guts and glory, all boss attitude. Or so she claimed, anyway.

Atsumu never had much opportunity to get to know her, having only met her in passing once when he came to see you at your favourite coffee shop. The girl was notoriously busy, according to you, getting roped into gigs, parties and other miscellaneous events and living out her outrageously cool lifestyle and making it seem like she was a character plucked straight out of a cheesy teen drama. 

She’s loud, brutally honest, with an ‘I don’t care’ personality and a wicked sense of humour, proclaims that she is the ‘Lesbian Queen of the World’, and is the complete opposite to everything that you are.

But when he tried a funny pick up line on her, to make you laugh more than anything, she fixed him with a glare so cold he gulped, and she threatened that should he ever hurt her best friend or bring you any sort of pain, she will castrate him and wear his balls around her neck as a trophy, just like she would with anyone else that dared to bring a frown to your face.

And because of that terrifying exchange, Atsumu quickly decided he liked her.

(She scares the shit out of him, but anyone that is protective of you is automatically an ally.)

She raises a black brow, but moves aside and lets him in, shuffling back to her side of the room and flopping onto her bed. Atsumu is glad that he and Osamu had the sense to save up for an apartment instead of a dorm because sharing a room with someone is just a nightmare in general, but he thinks your dorm looks rather homely, cosy.

It’s comical how different the two sides look - Himari’s wall is littered with at least 100 pictures of friends and posters, ranging from bands or artists like Tyler the Creator to...the Care Bears, oddly enough. Surrounding these pictures are bright colour fairy lights, all above a desk littered with makeup and free stuff picked up on campus. 

Your side is a lot more reserved, softer in colour and aura. It’s simple, with a few pictures from home or of scenery from places you visited, your own set of plain fairy lights hanging around the frame of your bed. On your desk sits some lilies in a vase (the sight of which makes his stomach twist sadly), with books of varying genres and your Nintendo Switch (Yuta was adamant about keeping in touch and playing the latest games with you, and of course you happily obliged). On your bed sits more plushies than a game stall at a fair, and it makes him smile. 

Even things like stationary, from the notebooks down to the pens are different. Truly chalk and cheese, red and blue.

One thing seems to be the same though. And it’s the clothes littered haphazardly around the room, from the floor to the backs of chairs, and he can even see a bra hanging off the curtain rail.

You look up in a panic on the floor, where it looks like you’re trying to shove said clothes and shoes underneath your bed or behind the mini fridge full of magnets. The sight makes him laugh while you hurriedly shove more articles of clothing under the bed, your foot attempting to shove some of Himari’s clothes under her bed as well.

“No! You’re early, why are you early? I never got a chance to clean up after my nap!”

He snorts, and takes a seat on your swinging chair, throwing the skirt lying on the back of it in your direction. You catch it with a huff, and add it to the mess below. 

“Well,  _ sorry  _ for wantin’ to spend more time with ya today. And hello, by the way,” he stretches his legs in front of him, links his hands on his stomach, and spins back and forth on your chair while he takes in his surroundings. “Yer so  _ lazy.  _ Ya woke at eleven this morning and you already took a nap? It ain’t even six, yet.”

Himari laughs, doesn’t look up from her lap. Looks like she’s cross-stitching Pikachu. Cool. 

“Isn’t she? She was banging on all morning about cleaning up before you got here, but when I came back from class she was already asleep in her bed. She sleeps like the dead, too.”

“Hey! I’m right here!” You move onto Himari’s side, picking up all her clothes and throwing them into her chest of drawers blindly. “And you heard me talking about it. Why weren’t you the amazing friend you claim to be and tidied up for me?”

“Because I’m not here to impress anyone, but clearly  _ you  _ are,” she laughs when you get flustered and throw a stuffed giraffe at her head. 

“Ugh, whatever.”

With the floor considerably clearer to see than when he walked in, you sit on your bed and sulk.

“Aww, don’t be mad at me, hon! I’m sure your boyfriend doesn’t care, right, Atsumu?”

He does a double take and coughs, staring at Himari in surprise. She’s smirking, still looking at her cross-stitch, and Atsumu scoffs before returning his attention to the books on your desk, so that no one sees how much a simple comment like that can affect him. You sigh.

“Himari, you know Daishou is still my boyfriend.”

“He shouldn’t be, especially after that shit he pulled at the hotel,” she scowls. “Fucker is like a festering rash.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” Atsumu says, pointedly ignoring the frown you send his way.

“Besides, you’re not even really talking to him, just break up and be done with him. It’s been like a week and he’s knocked on our door like- twice, to apologise when he should be  _ begging  _ on his knees for forgiveness,” she groans, and falls back onto her pillows. “You are too much of a saint for accepting his half-assed apologies.”

“I know, but-“ you rub your forehead. “Look he said he didn’t mean it; he was just drunk. He said sorry. I’m over it.”

“Wait, yer actually still with ‘im?” Atsumu asks in surprise, and you look down at your lap, ashamed. His heart burns in agony. “I thought Samu said you guys were on a break.”

“We were, but when he got back from the training camp he apologised, and I forgave him. I just hate fighting with people, you know this.”

“Yeah, but is it really worth staying with him?” Himari asks, head propped up on her hand and staring at you intensely. “Do you actually love him, or do you stay with him because you don’t know what will happen if you leave him? Are you afraid you’ll be single and unlovable if he leaves you?”

Well, damn. She doesn’t beat around the bush, does she?

You wilt under her stare and offer no response. Her eyes flicker to Atsumu, studying him, but he keeps his sad, longing stare trained on his shoes.

“See, I don’t think you love him. You’re just staying with him out of guilt, or something like that. And you can’t make the move to break up because you’re afraid of how he’ll react.”

“Himari-“

“You could be making yourself so damn happy with someone you love right now instead of being absolutely miserable with a guy you don’t care for. Don’t be stupid,  _ do something about it. _ ”

She looks at you directly when she says it, and her gaze is piercing and all-knowing, like she’s trying to urge you with her mind into confessing all that is in your mind and spill your thoughts onto the floor like confetti. But you say nothing, red faced and looking at the ground, thoroughly reprimanded.

With an annoyed huff, she returns to her task.

“Whatever. I’ve said my piece. I  _ know _ you, and I know you’re not happy. I’m just trying to get you to make a decision before it’s too late.”

Atsumu doesn’t feel as enthusiastic about being here as much anymore, if he knew the conversation was going to be like this. The air is tense, and he can clearly see you’re getting annoyed, but for the sake of civility you reel it in.

You hop off the bed and move towards a shelf filled with all kinds of knick knacks.

“Himari, leave it for another time, you’re ruining game night with Atsumu.”

You bring Monopoly to the centre of the room and begin setting up the game, patting the floor beside you as an invitation for Atsumu to sit next to you. He does so wordlessly, and his knees touch yours when he sits as close as he can. Himari watches him like a hawk, scrutinising, gauging his moves.

What is probably against his better judgement, he looks up at her over your head to invite Himari to play.

“Wanna join? Promise I’ll let ya win the first game ‘fore I destroy yer asses.”

She snorts, and puts her cross stitch down, sitting down on the floor in front of the two of you with a heavy thump.

“If she doesn’t mind, then sure. I’d love a game.”

“Of course I don’t mind, Mari. You’re my friend.”

She laughs. “Even when I was just being a bit of a bitch to you?”

“Even when you were just being a bit of a bitch you me,” you affirm, choosing the little silver dog as your token. Atsumu dives in for the race car. Himari rolls her eyes with a smile.

“Guess I’ll take the stupid iron, then.”

“It’s what you deserve,” you joke. She kicks you backwards in retaliation until you’re falling into Atsumu’s lap with a laugh and a blush as he cradles you gently, setting you upright with a small smile. He doesn’t quite take his hands off of you quite yet, fingers lingering on your hips while you grin bashfully.

Again, Himari watches the entire exchange. She turns her attention to Atsumu.

“Want a beer? It’s only the cheap stuff, none of that high-class whiskey shit that Daishou insists on having.”

Atsumu snorts at that. Daishou really is such a pretentious prat.

“Any drink is good drink when yer a broke college student,” he states, and Himari laughs loudly in agreement, leaning backwards to tug some bottles out of the mini fridge. He catches the cold bottle with ease when she tosses it to him.

“Couldn’t agree more. Now, let’s get this show on the road, I’m ready to crush you both into dust.” He is more than eager to relieve some of the lingering tension in the air. He makes the first move, rolling the dice on the board and picking up his money to purchase his first property. Himari sips at her beer and leans back against your bed.

“So, tell me; how did you two meet?” You send her a look. She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I know you told me before but I like hearing the story from different sides.”

You huff in exasperation and roll the dice.

“We met in school. She sat next to me in class,” he answers.

Himari continues to stare expectantly. When all Atsumu offers is a shrug, she pouts.

“Wait, that’s seriously it?”

“Yeah,” he laughs. “Whatcha expect?”

“I don’t know,” she huffs, takes another gulp of her beer while Atsumu does the same. “I was hoping for some sort of funny story. How boring.”

He scowls. He doesn’t know her intentions with this conversation, but he knows it probably isn’t good.

“Yeah, well, sometimes life is jus’ borin’.”

She takes her turn with a laugh. “No need to get snippy. It’s just, there are a million aspects to her life story that sound like something straight out of a movie. I just thought that the meet cute would be, you know,  _ cuter. _ ”

He looks at you in curiosity. How much did you tell her, exactly?

“I told you, we didn’t really talk until I started babysitting his brother,” you chime in, staring at the board with a calculating gaze. He finds it adorable how determined you are to win. Shame he’s going to put you into crippling debt.

“Yes, yes, where you were practically adopted into their family with open arms –  _ I know. _ ”

You chuckle, shaking your head in disbelief. “Are all things in my life so trivial to you?”

“Of course not. But if I’m going to write an ‘International – Best Selling’ book about your life, then I’m going to need more than that, right? I need embellishment, spicy drama,  _ thrills. _ ”

You turn to Atsumu with a flat look.

“Literature student.”

A look of realisation dawns on his face, and he gives a lopsided smile. “Ah. Makes sense. You talk a lot.”

“Wow,” Himari scoffs.

“Doesn’t she? She’s like a broken record, same as you.” Another roll of the dice, another property bought. Your stack of cash is looking a little higher than when you started.

He looks at you, offended.

“What? I don’t talk as much as her!”

“Seems like you do,” Himari says with raised brows and an impish grin on her pierced face.

“You do, Tsumu,” you affirm, and rub circles into his back sympathetically when he pouts and leans on to you heavily.

“I have no idea what yer talkin’ about,” he replies airily, and revels in the giggle you emit, nearly purrs at the affectionate head scratches you offer him. Himari looks at you both in amusement.

“Everybody knows you talk a lot and say nothing at all,” you laugh even louder when he groans dramatically and shoves more of his weight on you, threatening to topple you over entirely. “Osamu says you were so loud as a kid he had to tie a scarf around your mouth nearly all the time.”

“Don’t listen to that scrub! He was just as loud as me, don’t listen to all those bullshit lies!”

“Osamu,  _ Osamu _ …oh! He’s the other twin, right?” Himari asks, and you nod. Atsumu’s eyes narrow in suspicion as Himari’s lips lift with childish glee. He takes another sip of his beer while she makes her move on the board. “Which one did you lose your virginity to again? Is it the blonde one?”

And now he’s choking.

“Atsumu!”

You pound on his back as he struggles for air, his entire face turning red and burning bloodshot eyes into Himari’s as she bursts into loud laughter. She really doesn’t hold anything back. Atsumu is grateful he’s learned to develop some sort of a filter compared to when he was younger because  _ damn was this girl giving him whiplash. _

“Himari, you can’t just say things like that so casually!” You scold, but she pays you no mind.

“You told her ‘bout that?” he croaks, while you grimace and continue you pat his back like burping a baby.

“Ah, so I was right!”

“I hope you don’t mind,” you say quietly, a very sheepish look on your face. “She’s my friend, a girl friend, so I kinda- I tell her everything-”

“No, no it’s fine! I jus’...” he gathers himself, and takes another long gulp of his beer to cool his burning face. “I wasn’t expecting it. Wasn’t expecting her to know  _ everything. _ ”

“Sorry man, but you know what they say! Honesty is the best policy!” She beams at him, and he can only offer her a glower in response. “Don’t worry, she said you were the best dick she ever had.”

His ego has been revived. 

With cheeks glowing even redder than before, he tilts his head with a smirk, taking keen interest in the way you look panicked, caught out,  _ livid  _ with Himari and her candor. 

“Is that so?” he drawls.

“Atsumu stop looking at me,” you snap, to which he can only laugh, narrowly dodging the hands you swing in his direction. 

With your body jerking towards his in your attempts at assault, he takes the opportunity to wrap an arm around your waist and pull you close, where your hands rush to find purchase on his chest. This is his second time this night where you’ve landed in his arms, and you go stock still, and gaze in surprise, directly into his eyes, his chocolate eyes that hold so much love and affection for you. His hand traces patterns onto your waist, and his heart soars when your face softens at the contact. Bokuto would be very proud of the moves he’s pulling tonight.

“Was I really your best? I’m very flattered, princess,” the old nickname comes out naturally, and he takes pride in the smirk that grows on your face.

“Don’t let it get to your head, pretty boy. There weren’t very many contenders in this competition,” you laugh weakly.

It’s true, but-

“You were mine.”

You are stunned into silence, and he must have the same starry look in his eyes as you do, like the galaxy has opened before his eyes and he can see every beautiful creation the world has to offer.

(But there’s only one beautiful creation he cares about, and it’s the array of colours and stars and love that he holds here in his hands.)

Himari lets you two have a moment, before shattering it like a hammer to glass. 

“Which twin is the better looking one?”

His head whips up, and his expression fills with annoyance.

“Huh? Whatcha mean by that?”

“Well, twins usually always have, like, a twin that’s better looking than the other-”

“It’s me!”

Himari looks like she doesn’t believe him, so he turns to you for help.

“Tell her! I’m way more handsome than that smelly scrub Samu, right?”

You give him a flat look.

“Atsumu. You literally look  _ the same. _ ”

“No, Himari’s right, there’s always a better lookin’ twin ‘tween the pair! And I can tell you now, it’s me. My hair is nicer.”

Himari eyes the mop of blonde hair with a raised brow. “Are you sure about that?”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Even your hairstyles are the same, just different colours!”

“Yeah, but his is a boring grey colour, least I was creative.”

“Atsumu, you’re both very... _ dapper _ men-”

“Dapper?  _ Dapper?  _ Who the hell even says that anymore-”

“-I’m not going to  _ choose  _ someone, that’s ridiculo-”

“-just admit it, it’s me! Hell, you’ve even seen my-”

“ _ I’m not going to cause a stupid fight between the two of you so can we please continue with the game?! _ ” 

Your outburst silences Atsumu and Himari, and they are quick to pick up their cards and resume with obedience. You huff, roll the dice, and move your tiny doggy across the board. He wants to laugh, because you pout like an angry chihuahua, but he keeps his lips locked for fear of you hanging him by the bra on the curtain pole. He’s focusing so much energy on not teasing you that he doesn’t register the move he makes when it’s his turn again.

“Pay your rent, Tsumu.”

He looks at the board in confusion while you hold your hand out expectantly. Shockingly, the board seems to be covered in little houses and hotels of your choosing, and your stack of cash is looking quite fat compared to the few measly notes he holds in fist.

“ _ What?  _ When did ya own so many properties?!”

You laugh again, sour mood dissipating in favour of mocking Atsumu.

“Since the beginning, you were too dumb to notice!”

“Hey!”

“C’mon, pay up!”

“I ain’t got enough!”

“Then I’ll have to buy your properties, you scumbag.”

It’s his turn to pout now.

“Ya sneaky hag.”

You grin, and wiggle your fingers, waiting for him to hand over his property cards. Dutifully, you pass over the required money. 

“You two fight like an old couple,” Himari comments with a small smile. He sniffs, and looks bashfully to the ground, while you simply blush and smile. “It’s adorab-”

Your phone chimes, and it’s like the tolling of a funeral bell.

Everyone stares at it, and Atsumu is left wondering why you aren’t just getting up to answer it, until Himari does it for you, standing up and walking to your desk, eyeing the phone with blatant disgust. 

“It’s Daishou. He wants you to come up to his dorm to…’netflix and chill’. God, he’s disgusting.”

Ah. The elephant- or rather,  _ serpent,  _ in the room. His knuckles crack from when he clenches his fists with force. Your hands are like ice to fire, soothing, calming, as they place themselves over his fist and work to loosen them.

“No,” you answer with resolve, scooting closer to him and keeping your eyes on the board with your head high. “I’m with Atsumu. He can make do with his hand.”

Himari throws the phone on your bed with a grin, and winks at Atsumu.

He smiles, and opens his fist until you’re now palm to palm.

(His heart dances in victory.)

\---

The pillow is soft underneath Atsumu as he reclines on his unkempt bed, chewing on the stolen bag of taffy treats he found in Osamu’s room. He counts the cracks on the ceiling, one by one, until he loses the number, and starts the mind-numbing process all over again, one arm tucked beneath the pillow and the other kept in the bright bag of sweets.

His phone lays beside his head as he listens to whatever bit of news Kita has for him that week. The phone calls to his old captain have become a weekly thing, along with calls and texts to other past members, too, in what Atsumu names as his attempt at easing the soured friendships he had from his time in the volleyball club. 

His friends say they’re fine, that whatever attitude he had has gradually fizzled out and that they forgive him for whatever displays of immaturity he had shown in high school, but there’s still that niggling doubt in the back of his mind. And Atsumu is all too aware of the fact that he doesn’t have very many friends, so one step at a time, he’d prefer to patch up whatever grievances he had with past friends that he cares about than wading through a sea of fakes. 

“How’s life on the prairie?”

Kita’s weary sigh crackles through the receiver, and it makes Atsumu snicker.

Maybe, just  _ maybe _ , some of his immaturity can stay.

“That’s funny, Atsumu.”

“Ah, well, y’know me. I always was the funnier brother.”

At that, Kita does laugh a bit. There’s shuffling on his end, the creaking of wood and a grunt as, presumably, Kita sits down on the wooden steps of his grandmother’s veranda.

“Life is good here. Tending to the rice is hard work, but it’s good. Rewarding. I enjoy it. I could do much worse.”

Atsumu hums, chews thoughtfully on his stolen taffy. He tries to imagine what life would have been like for him if he had done something like Kita. Stayed in Hyogo, settled down, got a nice job, a home, a wife.

A wife.

Atsumu really can’t imagine his life going way other than in the direction of where he spikes the volleyball in his hand. His life was designed to be anything but mundane. But that last part?

It doesn’t sound too bad.

He clears his throat and snaps out of his thoughts.

“That’s good. You deserve a nice, cushy life. Long as yer happy, I’m happy.”

“So do you,” Kita claims honestly, and it brings a smile to his face. “You’re out there, making all your dreams come true. I’m proud.”

“Aww, Kita, yer gonna make me blush!” He already is blushing, but nobody needs to know that. “I’m just tryna live my best life doin’ the thing I love with some folks I care about. Seems to be goin’ well so far. Some guy from the JVA was scoutin’ me at the trainin’ camp, said he wanted to see what I could do up close.”

“Wow, well done,” Kita responds, pleasant surprise filtering through the phone. “I hope that goes well for you, won’t be too long until you’re playing for the big teams.”

“I promise I won’t forget ya when I’m big ‘n famous, Kita, don’t worry. I’ll even sign some stuff for ya to sell, y’know, make a quick penny to buy yerself some...uh...farmin’ gloves?”

“No thank you, I don’t need them,” he says disinterestedly, and Atsumu pouts. “How are the folks in your life doing?”

Atsumu returns to his chewing, and his eyes roam the white ceiling once more.

“Good, for the most part. Exam’s are comin’ up so everyone is stressin’. Samu’s the same annoyin’ prick as always, so nothin’ new there-”

“Atsumu, stop that.”

“-what? He’s my brother, I’m allowed talk shit ‘bout hi-”

“ _ Atsumu. _ ”

He shuts his trap and sulks. Even through a phone, and cities away, Kita still scolds him and makes him feel like a brat. The man should have been a teacher, not a farmer. Wasted talent. 

“Whatever,” he tuts. “Suna’s fine too, but it’s not like he ever really tells me anythin’, you know how he is. My family are doin’ good, my lil’ brother actually joined a team in school, he brags ‘bout me all the time.”

Atsumu just  _ had  _ to add that in, his ego wouldn’t allow him otherwise.

“And my friends at college are cool, too. Batshit crazy, but cool. They can be annoyingly nice.”

There’s more shuffling on Kita’s end as he offers a hum in response.

“That’s good to hear.” A pause. Atsumu pops another piece of taffy in his mouth. “And how is  _ she? _ ”

Atsumu’s mouth stops, and his eyes narrow at the ceiling.

Kita is clearly fishing for gossip, but he’s too polite to be outwardly nosy.

“She’s great, but you know that as well as I do, you talk to her nearly more than me.”

“Nearly, but I think you have me beaten in that regard.”

“That so?” he questions while he resumes his obnoxious chewing.

"Every time we speak she has a new story about you to tell me."

He blushes, grateful Kita can't see him.

"Our lives are crazy, what can we say?" he says dryly, because it isn't far from the truth at all. "We're jus’ very entertainin’ people."

"That you are," agrees Kita. "Where is she, by the way? I sent her a message this morning but she hasn't responded yet."

"Studyin' with Samu," Atsumu answers, lifts his legs into the air in a bored manner. "They get together every week to study. Nerds."

He snorts into the receiver while Kita sighs once more.

“They just care about their education. Something that  _ you  _ should be doing as well.”

“I study ‘nuff as it is. If I stare at a textbook any longer my brain’ll melt.”

“I’ll just have to take your word for it, I can’t be around to stare over your shoulder like in highschool.”

That makes Atsumu feel weirdly sad. Life moves on faster than you’re ready for it.

“Seems like she’s keeping you on the straight and narrow, from what I hear,” Kita continues. There’s a pause, and it’s too long for Atsumu to be comfortable with. Kita speaks up once more before Atsumu can question whether he hung up or not.

“It’s a bit surprising that she forgave you for everything you did.”

Atsumu’s jaw stops mid chew, and the sweet turns bitter on his tongue as something cold washes over him.

“...she told you ‘bout that?” he asks tentatively, and Kita clears his throat.

“She did.”

“When?”

“Before we left school. We met up at a tea shop, and I asked her what was wrong since she had looked very upset the few times we met up. She told me everything. About what you did.”

He can hear the disappointment that drips from Kita’s lips, and it makes him want to drown in every syllable.

“...why didn’t you say nothin’? You coulda given me a lecture, or ‘sumn.”

“Because it wasn’t my place to get involved, and she begged for me to keep quiet and not upset you.”

Shit. Even then you put his feelings above your own. He really does not know what he’s done to have an angel like you near him. Your time is truly wasted on an imbecile like him.

“She also told me about what happened at the training camp, and how you stood up for her.”

Oh, was that a hint of pride in Kita’s voice?

“And how you  _ punched a fellow teammate.” _

_ Oh.  _ Nevermind, it’s gone now.

Atsumu groans, dragging a hand down his face. “He deserved it, you shoulda heard the shit he was sayin’ about her, I couldn’t let him jus-”

“I know, I got the gist of what he said. She told me. But that doesn’t give you the right to assault someone you’re supposed to work with. That could seriously jeopardise your chances of playing volleyball professionally, especially now that you’re so close to getting signed to a te-”

“-I know but I can’t sit around while he accuses her of cheatin’-

“-your actions were stupid and reckless and you need to watch that temper of yours. It does you no favours. Do  _ not _ mess up your chances at a career in volleyball over a low-life like him.”

Atsumu bites his tongue to keep from retorting, because when Kita is in ‘Scold Mode’ there’s no stopping his tirade.

There’s another pause while Kita gathers his thoughts, and when his voice drifts into the receiver, it’s muted.

“...but despite the unnecessary altercation at the training camp, I’m proud of you for defending her and making sure she was ok. It was something you should have done a long time ago.”

And there it is, the killing blow, the fist through Atsumu’s heart, tearing apart the muscle piece by piece. 

“...I know,” he whispers, and it’s all he can think to say, because he has made his excuses long ago, and they’ve outlived their usefulness. 

“She was really upset by what happened. I don’t think she stopped thinking about it for months.”

“...I- I know. I’m sorry.”

There must be something in his voice, something broken, as Kita stays quiet, and makes no further comment on his stupid behaviour. It seems as if Atsumu has been punished enough. 

(He wonders if the shame in his voice is palpable, if Kita can feel it pervade his senses like smog all the way in Hyogo just like it does for Atsumu most nights.)

“She doesn’t like to dwell on the past, though. And it seems you’ve changed for the better. You treat her well, unlike before. She’s really happy now, that you’ve continued to be friends. I’m glad.”

“...yeah.”

He stares at a picture on his desk of himself and Osamu at the beach years ago, all toothy grins, dark hair and burnt shoulders. It seems like so long ago, and like it was just yesterday, all at once. He thinks of his brother, of where he is now, with you in a library, or probably taking a lunch break somewhere so he can treat you to ice-cream like the glutton you are. He thinks of your friendship with his twin.

He thinks, and he wonders who you shared your story with.

And so he mumbles into the phone, “Does Samu know?”

Kita gives a questioning hum.

“Did she tell Osamu ‘bout us?”

“...no, I don’t think she did,” Kita muses. If Atsumu listens hard enough, he can hear the bugs singing in the background while Kita decides what to say. “I only ever remember her telling me. She didn’t want Osamu to do anything drastic.”

Atsumu chuckles, but it’s mirthless, dead. “Prolly for the best. With how he was talkin’ ‘bout drivin’ his carving knife into Daishou’s skull for the way he treats her, God only knows what he woulda done to me. He already kills me enough as it is.”

At that, Kita tuts with disappointment, and Atsumu can envision the look he has on his face. Upset. Dismayed. Disgusted. It sends a shudder down his spine.

“Osamu needs to respect her relationship with Daishou, whatever his problems may b-”

“ _ What?  _ That’s about the only thing Samu and I can agree on! The guy is an asshat, and he treats her like she’s nothi-”

“I know you don’t like Daishou, or his treatment of her. I am the very same, trust me, but she isn’t a child that can’t think for herself.”

Atsumu sits up straight in his bed in fury, legs tangled awkwardly in his blankets. 

“The  _ hell  _ you talkin’ about? You do remember this is Daishou we’re discussin’, yeah?”

A huff of impatience crackles through the phone. 

“I know. I would rather see her with anyone else, but she is capable of making decisions for herself. She is obviously staying with Daishou with a reason, and you need to push past your jealousy and let her live her life.”

“Wha- my  _ jealousy? _ Kita, do ya even hear yers-”

“ _ I know.  _ But do you want to cause her any more pain or stress than you already have before?”

He bites his lip, and scowls. Brown orbs flicker to his desk once again, this time on a photo of you two together, at an animal shelter you had dragged him to to volunteer one morning. Was it something he would have done any other time? Not really, but he wasn’t going to refuse your begging, and with the way you grinned into the camera, a dog too large for you held in your arms while he laughed and took the picture, made it worth it.

His eyes stay on your smiling face while Kita continues to pour his wisdom into Atsumu’s unwilling ears.

“You care about her a lot. Anyone can see that. So you need to step back, and let her live her life the way she wants to.”

“...but-”

“No. She has spent too much of her life under the thumb of other people. If you want to be a good person, and want to see her happy, then leave her personal affairs be. She’s living her life this way for a reason. Let her experience things and make mistakes so that she can grow from them.”

Kita sighs, but it’s not one of disappointment, or anger. It’s sad, wistful, pitiful, and all for Atsumu.

“And maybe you should think about moving on with your life, so you aren’t left waiting forever for something that might never come again.”

“I…” The words he wants to say catch in his throat, one of Kita’s hidden superpowers apparently. He swallows. Inhales. Swallows again. Exhales. Kita allows him this time to gather his thoughts, but it still doesn’t help. “I don’t- I want…”

_ (I don’t want her to be happy with someone else. _

_ I want to be the one to make her happy. _

_ I want to be with her.  _

_ Only her.) _

He remembers the kiss you shared. How happy he felt, how all the puzzle pieces seemed to fit into place finally, like he was whole again with you in his arms.

He remembers how you pulled back for Daishou’s sake.

He feels sick.

“Ok,” he whispers. He has no strength to say anything else, has no ability to muster up words that won’t sound like petty excuses or woe-is-me statements.

Kita takes that as his cue to leave. Atsumu hears the boards creak and groan as Kita most likely stands up, stretching and popping the bones in his back with a grunt.

“I’m sorry,” Kita says earnestly after a beat of silence, and he feels a familiar sting behind his nose.

“It’s fine,” he grunts out, and busies himself with sitting up and fixing his bed, anything to distract him from the emotions welling up in his chest. “I’ve to go soon, anyway. Ojiro wants to play some games online. It’s the only time we really get to talk nowadays.”

“Ah, on the PlayStation, is it?” Atsumu grunts in affirmation. “He was telling me about that. He said you’re useless at it.”

Atsumu welcomes the lighter change in subject. 

“Am not,” he scoffs. “He just has more practice than me because I’m so busy with volleyball and stuff.”

“So is he,” Kita comments.

“I’ve won more games against him, don’t trust everything that liar says!”

Kita laughs lightly. “Alright then. Whatever you say.”

“It’s true!”

“Have fun, Atsumu, and remember what I said.”

He gulps.  _ It’ll be fucking hard not to. _

“Bye, Atsumu. Talk to you soon.”

“Yeah. Bye.” 

Atsumu is the first to hang up.

\---

_ Ok people! It’s time we talk about love and all that other crap, right? Wait until you hear this letter I got from a fan of the show, this really breaks my heart people. _

The TV drones in the background, the room hot with the beginnings of summer beaming through the windows. Atsumu lays on the couch in his apartment, completely bored out of his mind and watching some random talk show with muted interest.

Exams have finally arrived, and anxiety flows through the students like the strong current of a river - fierce, overbearing, and near drowning everyone with stress. Atsumu counts himself lucky that all of his exams were finished pretty early, but now that just means he has to wait for everyone else to finish with theirs, and it’s so  _ boring  _ sitting around the apartment waiting for people to be free so he can finally have some fun again. He’d go training but even that was cancelled out of respect for the stressed students who were on the verge of crying because they never studied enough.

Osamu and Suna, when not doing the exams, were neck deep in studying (which, frankly, made no sense because what the hell did Samu have to study for? He just needs to cook, right? Stupid), so it was like Atsumu was living with ghosts at the moment. Two very annoyed, tired ghosts. He takes full advantage of the practice meals Osamu makes, though. He’s not one to pass up a gourmet meal, his mama raised him better than that.

Kuroo, Bokuto and you were very much the same. He hasn’t seen you since nearly two weeks ago when you effectively shut yourself off from the rest of the world to become a ‘nerd hermit’ as he dubbed you. Kuroo also cracked down on studying, and the last few weeks has shown a more serious side to Kuroo. Bokuto remained more or less the same as he was before, carefree and neglecting his studies before Kuroo smacked him and forced him to study, so that put a chink in the potential plans he had brewing with Bokuto.

All was quiet, and it was painfully boring.

_ Ok, so this person - we’ll just call them ‘Kitty’ because, well just look at this adorable little cat they drew on the corner of the page, oh my gosh, anyway! Kitty wrote: _

_ ‘I’ve never done this before, but I thought if I can’t fix my problems, maybe you can help me. For a while now, I’ve been in love with my best friend. Like super duper “I want to marry you and have your babies” kind of love. But she’s with somebody else, and I missed my chance to ask her out when she was single.’ _

Atsumu scoffs at the T.V, at the sympathetic coos and hollers from brainwashed audience members as they try to ‘relate’ to this person’s problems. It makes him want to gag, the letter even more so.

(Because it sounds terrifyingly familiar, doesn’t it, Atsumu?)

_ I know, I know! Isn’t that just so sad? But there’s more! Let’s continue: _

_ ‘I’ve already accepted that she’s with another person and she loves them, and that I won’t have any chances with her any more, so I’m not asking for advice on how to win her over. I’m here for advice on how to get over her, because I just don’t want to feel sad all the time! I don’t want to keep crying all the time. I need to get over her so it won’t hurt any more. I need your help!’ _

Atsumu frowns, and he doesn’t stop frowning for the rest of the show.

He doesn’t even know why he’s watching shit like this in the first place, and he blames it on his laziness, because getting up to walk two steps to grab the remote is just honestly too much work right now, so suffering through this talk show is all he can do. It’s lame, over the top, and probably staged, which makes it that much worse.

And yet, he listens when the host starts listing out all the ways to get over someone.

(Because he doesn’t really have any options left, does he?

_ Oh baby, no. This just won’t do, people, this just won’t do! I’ll tell you right here, right now: _

_ Love is the worst. _

“You can say that again,” he mumbles into the couch cushions.

_ And unrequited love? Throw it in the trash and set it on fire!  _

The audience cheers.

_ Right? Right?! Love hurts, but you know what we’re not gonna do? Sit here and cry because darling, you've done enough of that. No more! I was in your shoes once, and you know what I did? I revamped myself, sweetie. Out with the old, in with the new! _

That sounds like the dumbest possible thing to do. You shouldn’t have to change for anyone.

“Idiot.”

_ But that doesn’t mean  _ **_you_ ** _ need to change! _

Oh. Nevermind, then. Insult retracted.

_ What you need to do is put yourself out there! Get out of your comfort zone, try new things! Because, you know what they say - ‘The best way to get over someone, is to get under someone new.” _

Really now?

He stares at the TV with pursed lips, narrowed eyes, and a newfound interest.

(Don’t be a moron Atsumu, this is just nonsense from the lips of some airhead who never had to work a day in their life and are so detached from the world, just giving terrible, archaic, no good, bullshit advice-)

_ Let me tell you - the sooner you get out there and meet new people, you’ll forget about your old love in no time! Don’t be afraid, just take the leap. Eat all kinds of fruit from the tree, if you catch my drift - ha! Find someone, find a connection, have a tumble in the sheets, wink wink!  _

(-awful, lame, morally questionable advice-)

_ The sooner you start to move on, the better. Because one day you’ll wake up and realise - hey! They’re not on my mind, my heart has healed! And that’s a beautiful feeling, isn’t it folks? Because then everyone is happy. If that woman is happy with someone else, then you need to find someone too! _

He picks up his phone from the edge of the couch, and stares at the text Futakuchi had sent him last night:

_ ‘Hey man, up fr sum drinks tmorro nite?? everyones so busy, i just wanna get buzzed!!!’ _

He looks at the TV one more time, at the host, the audience, the blaring lights, and the note from the fan plastered on the screen behind the host. 

(-stupid, stupid,  _ stupid advice- _ )

( _ I love her I love her I love her) _

His fingers fly across the screen before his mind can catch up.

_ ‘Sure, see you later. First round is on you.’ _

(His heart hurts even more, and the guilt holds it in a deadly grip until it’s ready to explode.)

\---

_ Now, the first thing I would do if I were you would be to go to bar. Even if you’re not a drinker, they’re great places to meet people! It’s social, flirty, people are out having a good time, it’s the best. Lemme tell you, you will always find love in a bar ladies and gentleman! _

He’s not particularly close to Futakuchi in anyway, nothing more than acquaintances who get along  _ occasionally  _ (the guy has a rough side to him, and that sort of delinquency clashing with Atsumu, of all people? Frankly, it’s a recipe for disaster), but this sort of casual drinking is exactly what Atsumu needed to unwind after the stress of exams, to allow the alcohol to numb his heart and beat to the tune of a different song, if only for a night.

He knows that dumb talk show host said to find a person to sleep with, and go from there, but honestly his main priority is to just hang with Futakuchi and some friends he brought along. He wasn’t specifically looking for a girl to take home (because doing so now feels like even more of an act of sin, that somehow you will look at him and  _ know  _ and judge him for all his wrongdoings), but if one came along, he might consider it.  _ Might.  _ For now, he focuses on the beer handed to him by the barman and Futakuchi’s jubilant shout of  _ ‘cheers!’  _ right into his ear.

But, one drink turns to two, then three, then shots were ordered, and suddenly Atsumu and Futakuchi are struggling to stay upright while leaning heavily on each other, and the sounds and lights around him have turned to nothing more than bright lines and a mess of sounds he can’t distinguish. Futakuchi’s laughing, he’s laughing, and he thinks that tonight was exactly what he needed. Just a fun time drinking.

And then he sees  _ her. _

Well, more like she sees  _ him _ .

A woman, with long, shiny red hair down to her hips and the smoothest tilt to her lips wanders over to him, with a sway in her step and a confident gait. A flick of her hair over her shoulder, a seductive hand on his arm, leaning into his personal space at his spot at the bar, she introduces herself, not that he asked in the first place.

“I’m Tomi. You’re Miya Atsumu, right?”

He doesn’t know how she knows his name. Sure, he’s a familiar face on campus because of his skill and prowess on the volleyball team, but Tokyo University is a big place - even the biggest names get lost. But at that moment, he has no ability to think too deeply about it, so he just nods sluggishly while her smirk grows. He had given her a once over, then;

She was tall, with long and slender legs and a body that probably coined the phrase ‘a tall glass of water’. She lashes are big, her lips dark, and she reminds him of one of those femme fatale style characters in the western comics he read as a child. Her clothes leave little and everything to the imagination, not too much skin, and not too much covered up to be considered a prude by today’s sick beauty standards. She’s everything a man could dream of - sexy, confident, alluring.

Atsumu is a little too busy trying not to vomit at that moment to pay any special attention to her.

_ I know what you’re thinking: ‘What?! I can’t just sleep with the first person I see!’ I get that, I really do! Which is exactly why you have to sort through the bushes to find the rose, darling. And when you find it, you have to say ‘Aha! That one! I’m going to take a chance and pick that one!’ _

“Yeah, I-” he burps, swallowing down the puke threatening to run for the hills, but it seems Tomi does a good job of masking any disgust she might be feeling. He takes a deep breath, sways on his feet. “I am. How’s- how’d ya know?”

She had smiled then, and if he were a bit more sober, he would have compared it to a shark, to the vicious curl of a sharks hungry smile, all razor sharp teeth and dangerous intentions. Her eyes are focused, scrutinising.

“Because everyone knows you,” she explained, and leaned closer to him. Her perfume was strong, and made him feel dizzy. He fell back onto the edge of the bar, and clutched onto the countertop for balance. Fuck, he was so  _ drunk.  _ Osamu is going to kill him if he wakes him. “You’re so popular around here. Like a famous sports star.  _ Everyone  _ knows Miya Atsumu.”

“...right,” he can hear one of Futakuchi’s friends whooping behind him, shouting something about this girl being hot, but he forgets it as soon as it happens. She presses her ruby red lips to his ear, and his face scrunches up.

“How about we go back to my place? Get to know each other a little better? Because I would really like that.”

Once more, he looks her up and down. She’s beautiful, yes, and had you asked him a few years ago what his reaction would be to hearing this woman essentially invite him home for sex, his answer would be to do cartwheels up and down the street while screaming. But with you in his life, women just don’t and never will compare, so he’ll say no. He’ll object. And he won’t feel remorse over it. 

But with misery in his heart, an obscene amount of alcohol flooding his veins and numbing his mind, as well a dry spell spanning a few months since you came back into his life, he’s not really sound of mind to be making good decisions right now.

He think about that lame talk show with that lame host and even lamer advice-

_ Even if it’s just for a night, get your love from someone else. Enjoy the feeling of pure raw sex with a stranger, and turn that stranger into something more! Get to know them, their body, I mean, you will have already seen each other naked. What more is there to hide? _

_ Remember people; to get over someone, get under someone else! _

He slumps against the bar, and registers somewhere deep in the back of his mind, that this is a very bad idea.

“Look, if we’re doin’ this, I jus’-” hiccups erupt from his chest. “I jus’ want ya to know, am not lookin’ for anythin’ s-serio-”

“Shhh,” she interrupts him with a finger pressed to his lips, curls long nails around the back of his neck like claws. “Let’s talk about that later, sugar. Let me show you a good time.”

She flashes him that menacing grin with a tug of her hand in the direction of the door. He faintly hears the guys cheering him on as he stumbles his way to the door, bumping into nearly every person possible, ready to keel over at any moment and feeling far too drunk to remember this tomorrow. 

Tomi keeps a steely grip on his hand, keeps a tight hold of him as she undresses him, keeps a firm grip on him as he fumbles his way through sex that he has absolutely no energy or mind for, and all the while she keeps that sharp look in her eyes, that same mysterious smile.

He can’t help but feel like he has been pushed into troubled waters.

(And his only lifeline is kept in the hands of another, out of his reach.)

_ Trust me, you’ll be over them in no time! It will be the best decision of your life! _

_ \--- _

When Atsumu awoke the next day, it was with a pounding heading, a churning stomach, and in a bed that wasn't his own. Tired eyes looked around to examine the foreign bedroom; with bright pink stationary and plush white rugs and a wardrobe that sparkled, when the remnants of last night's drinking came back full force making him bolt for the nearest bathroom, and he vomited nearly his entire body weight into somebody's toilet. 

Then he heard the singing and the smell of cooked food, and he forced his body to change back into his clothes that were scattered around the room and make his way to the kitchen. And that girl, the one he vaguely remembers from last night, had looked up with pleasant surprise, shoved him into a seat at the table and pushed a plate of food in his hands. He noted that it tasted like dogshit compared to Osamu's, but he didn't want to be impolite, so he swallowed down as much as he could and kept his eyes on the plate to avoid her sharp gaze and saccharine smile.

She looked a tad annoyed when he admitted he couldn't remember her name but it was washed away faster than he could blink, and Tomi struck up a conversation he had no ability to follow. He just wanted to go home. And when that awkward moment came where he finished his breakfast and had to break it to Tomi that he wasn't interested in anything and it was purely a one night thing, she had cut him off and asked him on a date. Well, more like  _ demanded  _ he go on a date with her next Tuesday, 2pm sharp, at that new Korean BBQ restaurant near the university. 

And he said no.

She paused, smile drooping at the sides momentarily, before announcing:

_ "Well! I'm going to be there waiting for you regardless, because I think you're a really cool guy. And if you stand me up, that would be a pretty shitty thing to do, wouldn't it?" _

Yeah, it would be. Which is why he is saying no to her face right now, to avoid this scenario entirely, but Tomi wouldn't listen, refused to listen. And Atsumu doesn't want to seem like a shitty guy. And so that next Tuesday, he felt dread in his gut when he saw that Tomi wasn't lying, she actually  _ was  _ waiting for him outside the restaurant, and he had to spend three hours on a date he hadn't wanted to go on with a pretty girl he had no interest in, all because he didn't want to be seen as an even bigger dick than before.

That should have been the end of it.

But then she asked him on another date later on that week. And another one. And another one. And each time he said  _ no _ , that he wasn't interested in pursuing anything, that really, she was a great gal and all but he wasn't in the right mind for a relationship. 

And each time she laughed, hooked an arm around his, tickled his face with a long, sharp nail, and insisted that they go on  _ just one more date _ . Because they're really hitting it off, weren't they? And it would just break her heart if he had destroyed things before they could let it bloom into something  _ beautiful.  _ Atsumu doesn't want to make Tomi cry, does he?

He doesn't. He doesn't want to make anyone cry. Not any more, he's done with that. So with gritted teeth and a deep frown, he agreed.  _ Just get it over with for her sake so you can break it off sooner. _

And  _ that _ should have been the end if it.

Then Tomi began posting all those pictures she deemed important to take, plastered pictures of her food and the scenery and, of course, Atsumu, who looks entirely unaware of the camera being on him in nearly every photo, to every social media outlet she was on, and Atsumu watched with distress as the likes and the comments came flooding in. They weren't bad, not at all, he just doesn't like that they're congratulating them on making things official. And Atsumu doesn't ever remember saying that could happen.

So when he told her to stop, to delete the photos, the posts, the memories she made, to end things now, she pouted, then smiled, each smile becoming less and less sweet and more like the grin of a demon. She argued that he surely wouldn't want to embarrass her by making her take them all down and say that he wasn't her boyfriend, especially after tons of people had seen it and wished her well? People would be making fun of her! It's cruel! Besides, they had a good thing going, she adores him. Why end things?

He had thought of you, still neck deep in exams, wishing you could be done with everything so he could just run and hide in your arms.

He had thought of Kita's words, playing in his mind like a broken record:

_ "Maybe you should think about moving on with your life, so you aren’t left waiting forever for something that might never come again.” _

With every fibre of his being screaming at him to run in the other direction, to never look back, he ignored it like an idiot, and with a heavy tongue he said  _ fine.  _ He'll leave things as they are for now, to not embarrass Tomi, to hope naively things actually go somewhere.

To see if he could stop making his heart hurt and move on.

If he had witnessed this from the perspective of someone else, he would have undoubtedly called himself a fool, a spineless moron, an utter fucking idiot, and that was being kind.

_ (Mistake after mistake after mistake after- _

_ When will he ever learn?) _

Fast forward to three weeks later, and they are, according to Tomi, young and in love. Which is hilarious because he feels nothing for the beauty that sticks to him like tissue on his shoe. Just an empty feeling in his chest, disgust at her clingy nature and incessant need to document everything he does.

He said not a word of this to anyone, because he had thought he would have dealt with this problem a lot earlier, but clearly that didn't fucking work out, did it? Yet still, they found out, probably due to Tomi's excessive posting of his face on Instagram to be shared around the populace of Tokyo Uni.

**BoobieToe** **:** TSUM TSUM WHAT THE HELL

_ BoobieToe has sent an image _

**BoobieToe** **:** WHO IS THIS WOMAN AND WHY IS SHE ALL OVER YOU

**Me:** i can explain better in person k so stop screaming @ me

**BoobieToe** **:** I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS!!! AFTER EVERYTHING WE'VE DONE?? 

**BoobieToe** **:** YOU JUST HAD TO RUIN THINGS DIDN'T YOU

**Me:** wth are u talking about what did you do

**Me:** stop ignoring me asswipe and tell me

**Me:** WHAT ARE U TALKING ABOUT 

**Me:** WHAT DID YOU DO

**BoobieToe** **:** SHUT UP AND THINK ABOUT YOUR ACTIONS 

**BoobieToe** **:** I AM FURIOUS I TELL YOU

**BoobieToe** **:** F U R I O U S

-

**Kuroo Baskin:** hey Atsumu how's it hanging i just wanted to check in and ask wtf are you doing

**Me:** NOT YOU TOO 

**Me:** WHY CAN'T YA LEAVE ME ALONE

**Me:** I CAN EXPLAIN EVERYTHING LATER OK???????

**Kuroo Baskin:** you better because im 2 seconds away from running you over with my car

**Kuroo Baskin:** all that hard work down the drain

**Me:** why do you people keep SAYING THAT WHAT DID YOU DO?

**Kuroo Baskin:** look I just want you to know that tomi chick is bad news 

**Kuroo Baskin:** i heard a lot of weird stuff about her so just

**Kuroo Baskin:** be careful

**Kuroo Baskin:** have to go to my next exam, talk later bro

-

**Sunashine:** ???

**Me:** what

**Sunashine:** Where did this girl come out of? How much are you paying her to be your girlfriend?

**Me:** fuck off suna it ain't like that

**Sunashine:** Well that's not what it looks like, but whatever. I'm just kind of confused right now.

**Me:** about what?

**Me:** why can't anyone ever answer my god damn messages omg 

-

**guyfieri:** since when did you get a gf?

**guyfieri:** and why didn't you tell me about it?

**Me:** look it's a bit complicated 

**Me:** ill explain everything tonight samu

**guyfieri:** right

**guyfieri:** but who is she? How did you meet her

**guyfieri:** cuz i thought

**guyfieri:** that you 

_ MESSAGE DELETED _

**guyfieri:** i hope you know what you're doing

**Me:** i fucked up 

**guyfieri:** why am i not surprised

**Me:** stfu I will literally end you

**guyfieri:** id like to see you try, dumbass

Atsumu is yet to hear anything from you, and your opinion honestly scares him the most. He doesn't want you to think that he was leading you on, that he was lying only to get back into your pants. No, that kind of asshole attitude is saved for people like Daishou. He doesn't want you thinking any less of him. He doesn't want you thinking he doesn't love you any more, because that couldn't be further from the truth.

Every time he tries to leave, Tomi latches on even stronger with some excuse, and at this point he feels like a parent trying to humour a child, until he isn't even sure who he actually is any more. He owes this girl nothing at all, but when her eyes fill with tears he can't help but remember the way you had looked that day you left him, and it makes him stay out of sheer pity and guilt.

His phone pings with another message from Tomi asking to go to the coffee shop with him. He stifles a sigh.

Seems to be a god given talent of his to make a complete mess of his life.

\---

The coffee shop is loud.

Students, newly freed from the chains of studying and exams, make up the majority of customers. They laugh and they talk and they smile, a stark contrast to Atsumu as he stands next to a babbling Tomi with a tired and bored expression while she chatters on about something she saw on the internet. He stopped listening a while ago.

Instead he focuses on the coffee shop, the bitter, earthy smell of the coffee beans, the whirring of the machines and the cash register, the copious amount of  _ 'Live . Laugh . Love'  _ signs hung on the walls that look nearly identical to the ones he saw in Tomi's room. He looks down to see a baby giggling at his parents while they try to make him laugh with the silliest faces. It makes him smile. The shop is different from your favourite coffee shop, too busy for his taste. No, the sweet little garden coffee shop you introduced him to was much nicer. You look nice surrounded by flowers.

"Atsumu!"

He snaps his head back to Tomi. She looks annoyed, but covers it up with that same old smile. He makes a noise of confusion.

"Sweetie, I've been calling your name for a while now! Honestly, you need to pay more attention to me."

She giggles. He barely restrains himself from rolling his eyes.

"What did you want?"

"I asked if you could grab a table for us while I order something."

He shrugs. She beams.

"Thank you, honey!"

She moves to kiss his cheek, but he moves his face at the last moment. He feels her fingers clench from where they've wrapped themselves around his arm. Her bright pink lips turn down at the corners.

"Do you want anything?"

"I don't care," he responds, already making his way towards an empty table near the front door. He slips into the seat with a sigh, and retrieves his phone from his pocket to see that he has another 17 unread messages from Bokuto, detailing how angry he is with Atsumu and his stupidity. As if he wasn't already  _ aware. _

As usual, his thoughts drift to you. He misses your voice, your face.  _ It's been too long. _ He knows you've been studying like crazy for the exams, but  _ God _ he just misses you so much. Maybe if you had finished your exams earlier he would have never gotten into this shitfest. His heart throbs in sorrow. It almost seems like he can hear your voice above the overwhelming chatter.

"...sumu?"

Wow. He's so sad, it almost sounds like you're right next him.

"Atsumu!"

Wait.

_ Wait. _

He looks up, and nearly falls out his chair as he shoots to his feet in shock. You're rushing towards him, looking tired and worn out beyond belief but...happy.  _ Very happy.  _ Huh. Maybe the exams went well for you? 

...maybe you hadn't heard about his new accidental relationship either.

"Atsumu! I've been looking everywhere for you!" you greet with a laugh, immediately wrapping him up in an embrace he subconsciously held his arms open for. When the warmth of your body meets his, he just about stops himself from crying with relief. It feels so damn  _ good  _ to have you near him again, like the first few droplets of cool rain after a drought. “Suna told me you had left the apartment to get some coffee here. I missed you so much!”

"I missed you too. It feels like forever since I last saw you. How'd you do in yer exams? Think ya passed?" he asks into the crown of your head. He pouts when you step back from his arms, but never go too far, keeping a hold on his hands as you grin widely.

"Oh! Yeah, they were good! I had studied a lot, so all the topics I put focus on were on the test!"

"Well whaddya know?" he gives a proud grin, and squeezes your hands lightly. "I  _ told  _ ya you'd do fine! I'm proud of ya."

You blush under his praise. 

"Thanks," you laugh bashfully, and swing your joint hands lightly. His heart grows three sizes larger. "But I have other good news! I wanted to tell you in person!"

He doesn't get time to ask what it is before you blurt out with a huge smile:

"I broke up with Daishou."

It was as if the sun began shining brightly, as if diamonds bloomed from roses, as if the planet's aligned and the grass became greener. The world is frozen in time.

_ Oh. _

_ You broke up with Daishou. _

"S-Seriously?" He can feel the grin on his face get wider, but it makes you laugh lightly. You bounce on the balls of your feet with excitement, and he's ready to start jumping up and down with you. "How- why- when did you-  _ huh?" _

_ Holy shit. You're free of that snake. _

"A few days ago. I actually found out from your friends Kuroo and Bokuto that he was cheating on me the entire time with his ex, which is... really terrible, not gonna lie-"

_ "He did what?" _

This is it. Atsumu is really about to commit murder and you know what? He won’t regret it at all, good riddance to that dickhead-

“I’ll kill ‘im. I’ll wring his neck, that ‘lil  _ bastard.  _ I fuckin’ _ knew  _ he was up to no good that ugly, dumb, lizard man-”

“Hey! It’s ok! I don’t care, I was the one who broke up with him!” you interrupted with a laugh, but it does little to cool the fury igniting in his veins. His nostrils flare like a bull. The next time he sees Daishou he  _ will  _ punch him and Daishou is just gonna have to suck it up and live with a broken nose. It’s the least he can suffer with after what he did to you.

_ “Asshole.”  _

“I’m upset over what he did but I’m sorta glad for it. Because I’m-” you squeal in delight, and you look like you find it hard to compose yourself because you’re so overcome with happiness. “I’m free, Atsumu! I’m single!”

_ Oh my god, you’re single. You’re actually single now.  _

His heart feels like it’s ready to burst out of his chest and start dancing on the table.

_ That means...we can… _

This is the moment he’s been waiting for and he can hardly believe it’s finally here. He might pass out. His hands shake in yours but you don’t mind, stepping closer to him with the biggest smile.

“Nothing is holding me back any more,” you sigh, and he nods dumbly at your words, too focused on your eyes, your smile, your cheeks, your  _ everything.  _ Everything right here in front of him.

“Yeah,” he giggles. He actually giggles. And soon enough you’re toe to toe, hands gripped tightly, afraid to let go. It feels like a movie, the end of a romance when the characters finally get together. His head leans down to yours. Is this too soon? Oh, but you’re leaning in too, and your faces are getting closer, and his breath catches in his chest while his eyes flutter close.

“Tsumu...we can finall-”

“Atsumu, sweetie, who’s this?”

And just like that, the time starts moving again, and the movie disc is torn out of the DVD player and snapped in half. He had forgotten why he was in the coffee shop to begin with. His heart falls to the floor in dread. You snap backwards in surprise, and jump out of his arms. He misses your warmth already, and feels nothing but ice when Tomi wraps her arms around his own that hangs lamely at his side.

“O-Oh!” you stutter. Your eyes flit questioningly between Atsumu and Tomi. You frown as you take in Atsumu’s expression - one of alarm and distress. He grimaces when Tomi’s grip becomes rigid, and it hurts. You look concerned, but extend a hand to Tomi regardless and introduce yourself. “N-Nice to meet you! I don’t believe we’ve met!”

Tomi eyes your hand with contempt, and doesn’t take it.

“Pleasure,” she snips. Atsumu glares at her, and she ignores him.

Confusion lines every corner of your face. 

“And you are?”

At this, Tomi smiles, and it's as real as the sky is red, and the grass is pink, and the oceans are black. He says her name in warning. Her arms get tighter.

"I'm his girlfriend."

Your hand falls slowly to your side, and you look between with the pair in bewilderment, hurt flooding your eyes. It makes him want to scream and cry and lash out. His hands shake once more, but it’s different to moments ago. That was nice, gentle, a sweet nervousness of lovers meeting. This is rage, this is anxiety, this is self-hatred.

(The world would really be this cruel to a person like him, wouldn't it?)

You frown.

Atsumu frowns.

Tomi laughs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have officially met the last hurdle before happiness people ok I SWEAR STOP POINTING YOUR GUNS AT ME!!! I'M SORRY FOR THE PAIN I'VE CAUSED  
> Also i finally watched Your Name/Kimi no na wa since a few of you mentioned it and that was the most stressful 1 hour 40 mins of my entire life omg i can't believe i sat through that shit, i was on the edge of my seat for the entire latter half of the movie I JUST REALLY WANTED THEM TO GET TOGETHER OMGGGG but great movie i really love it really recommend!!  
> hope everyone has a lovely day!!


	10. the other side

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i see this story has reached over 300 kudos and nearly 6k hits...that is insane to me. i'm just so glad people really like this story, and all the support and lovely words from you people really make it worth it. thank you so so much!! even when it seems like this story is going in crazy directions, i'm grateful for those who stuck around. and for any new readers, hello!! welcome to this angsty hell! i love you all, thanks a million! sorry for the wait with this chapter!  
> also i just wanna say i feel great for being able to finish this chapter just before i go on a 'stay-cation' with my family lol, mad writing skillzzz.  
> enjoy!! feedback as always is appreciated!

You were never really a person for bitter thoughts, but as you stared at the beautiful red haired goddess wrapping herself around an uncomfortable looking Atsumu like the clutches of ivy, the only coherent thought in your mind was:

_What the fuck?_

You didn't stay in the coffee shop long after that. 

Not like Tomi would have wanted you to, anyway. 

The fake smiles she gave were more than enough for you to get the message loud and clear: _'I don't want you here. Go away.'_

(Those smiles, just a tad too bright, just a tad too wide, remind you of the bullies in school, and you wanted nothing more than to run as far away from it as possible.)

But why the hell is Atsumu with someone like her? When did this happen?

What the fuck, indeed.

What a way to ruin a good day, too. When Kuroo and Bokuto had come to you the morning before after asking to meet up, you really didn't expect them to lay evidence before you that Daishou had been cheating on you for nearly the entirety of your relationship together.

You didn't want to believe it at first. Who would? It's such a cruel thing to have happen to you, and you wanted to deny that Daishou really was like that. But it made sense. Too much sense. And when you walked up to Daishou's dorm and asked if it was true, his half-assed denials and apologies were answer enough. So right then and there, you cut things off and walked back to your dorm and cried.

Yes, you cried. Himari said it was wasted tears, but you couldn't help it. It wasn't a nice situation to be in at all, and made you think that everything about your life was a lie. But you were grateful to Kuroo and Bokuto for having your back and telling you about it. You'll need to remember to buy them 'thank you' gifts.

Because while you cried, you also began to smile, and the sadness faded away to welcome a breath of hope into your lungs. Because this meant the end of something you truthfully didn't care much for (as wicked as it sounds, you really weren't sure why you stuck with Daishou for so long), and the beginning of something you had always wanted. That you and Atsumu could finally be together for real this time.

So you allowed yourself a day to grieve, and when the morning sun rose you called Kuroo and Bokuto about your intentions (because those boys were always less than subtle when it came to playing matchmakers. Only Kuroo was good at playing his part, Bokuto was...well, you could compare him to if Cupid was suddenly a barking chihuahua, but instead of saying 'woof!', he said 'kiss!'. He is very endearing, though.)

Bokuto, as expected, was over the moon. At least, you think he was. He kind of just screamed into the receiver and destroyed your eardrum. Just a lot of incoherent noises mixed a few words like 'soulmates', 'true love' and 'babies!' and whatnot. Kuroo, however, was a lot more reserved with his joy, and just told you to be careful. You didn't what it really meant at the time, but you do now.

It seemed like everything was going so well, too! When you stopped by their apartment to look for him Suna had told you he was at the coffee shop with a frown, but that didn't stop you. You thought nothing of these miniscule red flags. Maybe you should have.

If you could have stopped time forever, until it was just you and Atsumu holding hands and smiling at each other, eyes locked for the end of time, you would have. Anything to stop Tomi from butting in and ruining your entire year.

(Life really loved to laugh at you, it seems. To dangle such happiness in front of you like a toy until you can nearly feel it in your fingertips, only to rip it away before you can grasp it.)

You didn't talk to Atsumu for a few days after that.

You ran to your dorm room, stopped smiling, and went back to crying.

\---

"Look, I'm just saying- I know people. You want him gone, just say the word. Same deal with that other bitch."

Himari draws a finger across her neck, her tongue poking out and making a choking sound while she plays dead. It makes you snort from your position on your bed, huddled under your blankets, nose stuffy from crying and eyes bloodshot with sleep deprivation. 

Stupid men and their stupid brains.

"No thanks," you croak, and it makes Himari grimace. She rubs her fuzzy blue hair.

"It's been like...three whole days now. You need to get up and out of bed, girl! Get some life back into you!"

"No thanks," you repeat, burrowing further into your bed and pulling your blankets over your head until you're shrouded in darkness. You hear a sigh from Himari until suddenly a weight flops on top of your bed, startling you. You let out a hiss when she pulls the blankets away from your face. 

"Calm down, vampire, it's just a bit of sunlight."

"No, it's too much for me. It's too happy. Just let me rot here in peace," you wail. Your phone buzzes on your nightstand. Probably another message from Atsumu asking to meet up. You can't stomach looking at it. When Himari pats your cheek, you flinch at the unexpected slap. 

"You are so dramatic, my darling. I'm beginning to think you spend too much time with me." She brushes hair away from your face, and your eyes close at the caring touch of her finger tips. You're struck with thought that it reminds you of Lily, and it floods you with even more sorrow. _Great, another thing to cry about today._ You trace those ever familiar shapes into your hands that stay hidden beneath the covers, anything to keep you from spiralling into a deeper pit of sadness. She sighs out your name.

"You can't spend forever crying, you know."

"You underestimate how stubborn I can be."

Another sigh. "I know you're sad but I'm not gonna let you wither away in this bed. You need to start cheering yourself up again! Besides, we have to meet with that guy on Thursday to finalise getting that apartment for the summer. He was really happy to hear we both had jobs, we'd be stupid to pass this up!"

You nearly forgot about that. 

Landing a job in a book store at the start of the year was a stroke of good luck. The pay was decent, the hours worked well with your busy college schedule, and the owner was just about the sweetest old man you've ever met (that wasn't your dad, of course!). When he had asked if you wanted to work for the summer, you were nearly ready to decline because you would have to go back to Hyogo and give up your dorm room until you get a new one next year. And going back to Hyogo was something you definitely did not want to do.

You have nothing against Hyogo itself, and you'd like to think you're past the harsh memories that surround your hometown. That's all well and good, but the last place you want to be is under the same roof as your mother again. Living away for nearly a year has made you realise what sort of opportunities life can throw at you when you're not wilting under the judging gaze of your mother. And as much as you love your father to death, you can't face listening to your mother nitpick and tear you down every day until college starts again.

No, not anymore. You're done with that.

(You’ve suffered enough.)

So Himari suggesting getting an apartment with her for the summer so she can stay and work in Tokyo was a blessing wrapped up with a bow. You jumped at the opportunity and fought with your mother tooth and nail just so she could allow you to spend more time in Tokyo and _away_ from her. She was adamant about you returning home, and continuously said no, but your father, with his weathered smile and warm voice, went behind her back in a stroke of courage, gave you the money you needed and sent you away, telling you to live the life you deserve.

You really couldn’t thank him enough.

But now? You were dead set on dissolving into your bed sheets. Especially since the twins told you that they had also extended their stay in Tokyo and were going to be staying for the summer while they worked odd jobs and while Atsumu focused on volleyball training and going pro. You were enthusiastic a week ago, but now that you realise Tomi will be around for the summer? 

Yeah. Not so much, anymore.

You whine.

You wonder briefly what Lily would do in this situation. Knowing her, she’d come out on top and somehow twist the very fabric of fate around her dainty fingers, until she controls the story of her life. Oh, how you wish you had her confidence and intelligence right now. You miss her dearly. 

Himari hums. “Atsumu is stupid. You shouldn’t waste your energy crying because of him, and you _definitely_ should not cry any tears over that witch of a woman. She’s fishy. Atsumu will realise that sooner or later.”

“You don’t know that…”

“Well, I have a feeling. And I don’t like being wrong so when my gut tells me something? It’s usually for a good reason. Besides, I’ll beat him up for you if he doesn’t get a grip.”

“Please, don’t hurt him,” you frown. Himari rolls her eyes exasperatedly, and throws herself onto your pillows so she’s facing you with a loud, drawn out groan. 

“Gosh, you don’t have to be so _nice_ all the time. That boy doesn’t know what kind of angel he has next to him. You should have went for the twin.”

At that, you laugh a little at the absurdity of it. You and Osamu? He’s too good for you!

“That would be weird. Osamu is a friend, I couldn’t see him looking at me in any other way than as a friend.” Himari waggles her eyebrows suggestively.

“I don’t know, I’ve seen the way he looks at you. All gooey-eyed, like you’re an idol and he’s your number one fa-”

You pinch her nose with a weak chuckle, and she grins back at you. 

“Are you sure you’re not just mixing the twins up?”

A pause. _“Maybe.”_

You shake your head in amusement, and she laughs at herself. After a moment, her face turns soft, and she rubs at your arms.

“Seriously. Stop crying. You’re better than that. _Stronger than that,”_ she looks over her shoulder to her desk, where all her cosmetics and beauty products lay scattered across the wood. When she turns back around to face you, her face is all business. “Look, you can cry it all out today, but tomorrow, we’re having a fun day. I’m talking facemasks, pedicures, junk food, cheesy teen romance movies, the whole lot! So after tomorrow, I want you bright eyed and bushy tailed by Thursday so we can secure the apartment and have the best summer ever. _Do I make myself clear, soldier?”_ she bellows. 

(You stop yourself before you can tell her you already had the best summer ever with Osamu and with Yuta and of course with Atsumu, who made it the greatest of all.)

You smile weakly, and just nod, blinking away any oncoming tears.

Himari looks satisfied, and rises from the bed, hands on her hips.

“We don’t need men, anyway.”

“That’s easy for _you_ to say,” you sniff. She laughs loudly.

“True. But the point still stands. And from today onwards, we’re gonna have a new mantra, ok? We need to say it to ourselves every day, like a warriors chant! So, repeat after me:

I'm a bad bitch and I don't need a man!"

You gulp, and inhale shakily, licking at your dry, cracked lips. Wow, you’re a hot mess right now.

"I'm- I'm a b-bad bitch, and I… I don't need…" your voice wavers, and your grimace is wobbly at the edges.

Himari gives an awkward smile.

"We'll work on it."

\---

**Kita ^_^** : Hey

 **Kita ^_^** : I just wanted to check up on how you were doing

 **Me:** I’m just

 **Me:** I’m sad

 **Me:** I’m really sad, I can’t stop crying. I feel like such a baby.

 **Me:** I didn’t expect this to happen, I was waiting for the right moment to leave Suguru and I guess I just expected all the pieces to fall into place after that

 **Me:** I wanted to be with him for so long

 **Me:** I didn’t even realise they had become a thing, I don’t follow this girl on any social media but apparently she has been posting about their relationship for a while now. I was so busy with my exams that I hadn’t noticed

 **Me:** I feel like I’ve lost something. I thought he liked me too

 **Me:** I was so stupid for not acting sooner. I feel so stupid. I’m so heartbroken

 **Kita ^_^** : Stop

 **Kita ^_^** : Please don’t blame yourself, you’ve done nothing wrong. And neither has Atsumu.

 **Kita ^_^** : I feel

_Kita ^_^ is typing…_

**Kita ^_^** : I feel like I need to apologise...

 **Me** : For what?

_Kita ^_^ is typing…_

**Kita ^_^** : Atsumu is probably with that other girl because of me. I fear this entire situation could be my fault

 **Me** : I really don’t understand what you’re saying to me…

 **Kita ^_^** : We were discussing the training camp incident, and the confrontation with Daishou

 **Kita ^_^** : I told him that he should not interfere in your life like that. I said he needs to take a step back and allow you to live your life, make mistakes and just experience life the way you want to. 

**Kita ^_^** : That he should leave your relationship with Daishou alone, because you were with him for a reason, and when you wanted to go your separate ways, you needed to be the one to make that decision, not Atsumu.

 **Kita ^_^** : And I told Atsumu to move on, and not wait around for you forever. I regret that deeply. It was a mistake on my part, and I feel I might have gone against my own advice and interfered, even if it was not my intention to cause problems.

 **Me** : You know how I feel about Atsumu, though. And how I felt about Daishou

 **Kita ^_^** : I know, which is why I regret saying what I did. I just didn’t want to see either of my friends hurt. But obviously that didn’t work out.

 **Kita ^_^** : I didn’t expect you to leave Daishou as soon as you did, and I didn’t really think Atsumu would find someone that fast. I thought things would just happen naturally, at a slow pace

 **Kita ^_^** : I can’t apologise enough for any trouble I’ve caused

 **Kita ^_^** : I really can’t 

**Kita ^_^** : And I won’t blame you for hating me

 **Kita ^_^** : I’ve made an awful mess of things

 **Me** : It’s ok

 **Kita ^_^** : I don’t think it is

 **Kita ^_^** : I’m so, so sorry

_Read_

\---

Life slows down and speeds up in ways you're not prepared for, until suddenly you're getting whiplash and hanging on for dear life as the rollercoaster of your life chugs on.

Almost a week to the day of meeting the landlord with Himari, you're already dragging your entire wardrobe and furniture and whatever belongings you scraped together up four flights of stairs of the apartment building. And boy was it _tiring._

But, as a weak attempt at getting over your heartbreak, you're trying to stay positive, and thinking that four floors is much better than the twenty above you. And it's not like you're alone. Because of course, _Atsumu_ is here.

At his insistence, Atsumu rushed to help the moment you began messaging him again, and greeted you at the front entrance of your new home with a long and warm hug to make up for lost time in the week you practically ghosted him.

(The blisters on your tongue probably won't heal for a few weeks. You bit it too hard to keep from breaking down into a million pieces in his arms.)

You would have preferred Osamu's assistance, but he was too busy with an interview for a new restaurant that opened recently, so he was a no go. And you're not terribly familiar with the other boys to ask them to take time out of their day to help you. You're sure they wouldn't mind, but you'd feel too guilty and awkward. So, an eager looking puppy in the form of a 6ft man child was all the help you and Himari could get.

At least the moving of furniture into your apartment helps to keep your mind off of any lingering awkwardness and heartbreak between you and the blonde. Though the excessive glaring from Himari at Atsumu was something you could have done without, the shameful looks he wears every time he catches her eyes were even worse. 

One sharp glare from you was enough to scold her, and she went back to sorting through her records in her room with a huff.

You sigh through your nose, wiping your hands against the fabric of your leggings, and let your eyes rove around the living room. Finally, after several hours of sweating and hauling an ungodly amount of books from Himari's personal library, everything in your possession are within these creams walls. It's bare, half empty with a miniscule echo bouncing off the empty walls, but as Atsumu had said with his strange logic, all you needed was a couch and a TV to start with to make it a home. Both of which are being occupied by said logician.

The small TV was the first thing to to be carried up the stairs and was immediately plugged in by Atsumu, you know, _'for background music!'_ he had said. But after a few hours the music was switched out for a volleyball game between what looks like Bulgaria and Romania.

 _"Wow,_ that's so _cool_ ," he gushes, staring in awe at the TV that sits sadly on the floor. You look at it with a grimace. A lot of work needs to be done before this place can look even remotely decent. "Aww man, the Bulgarian team are _beasts._ I need to get Bokuto to try that move with me…"

His tired and flushed face is struck with childlike awe as he watches the players move about the screen, and you can't stop the smile that creeps onto your face. Damn this man and his ability to weaken your defenses! 

Remember Himari's words! 

_I'm a bad bitch and I don't need a man I'm a bad bitch and I don't need a man I'm a bad bitch and I don't nee-_

"Hey, I got somethin' on my face? Or am I just that damned handsome?" he grins, and the wag of his brows cause you to furrow yours while you blush.

 _Damn him, why does everything he say affect you so much? You just_ **_had_ ** _to be in love with him, didn't you?_

(Yes, you had to. And you don't think you could fall in love with anyone but _him_.)

"Sorry, I'm...exhausted," you say awkwardly. He pats the space on the couch next to him, and you eye it warily before your body betrays you and you take the seat next to him. You crave his presence too much.

"No surprise there, but 'least we got everythin' done today." He leans back heavily into the cushions on the back of the couch. You subconsciously do the same, until you find yourself shoulder to shoulder with Atsumu, both of you staring blankly at the TV. 

He invades your senses, and the smell of his cologne, the warmth of his body, is like a sweet lullaby after a sleepless night. Your heart stirs with agony. You rush to turn your mind elsewhere to avoid Atsumu catching on to your emotions.

"It's so...bare," you comment lamely. The lack of furniture makes the room look large and empty, but Atsumu waves you off.

"Obviously," he snorts, cutting himself off when Romania manage to steal a set from Bulgaria. "Ya just moved in. Yer gonna have plenty o' time buyin' furniture after today. Soon enough the place will be lookin' like one of those showrooms in Ikea."

You laugh at that, and feel grateful that Atsumu is trying to keep the air casual between you, but the moment is short lived.

His phone rings for the millionth time today, and it doesn't take a genius to figure out who it is. The answer has been the same every single time. And every single time, that shrill ring of the phone, that strong buzzing, has caused your heart to plummet to the floor.

Tomi has been calling Atsumu since the moment he arrived - for what, you aren't sure, and you don't really want to know, either. He answered for the first few calls, face tight with tension, and each call left him with an expression more annoyed than the last.

He stopped answering soon after that. And with each buzz of the phone in the pocket of his pants, he simply pulled it out and hung up, going back to whatever he was doing like it never even happened to begin with. 

You said nothing, because you're not strong enough to address the elephant filling up the space in your heart. But you know this isn't really typical behaviour a boyfriend should have with his girlfriend. It's not typical behaviour for _Atsumu_ either, because Atsumu is always there for people he cares about.

_Always._

Even you, despite what transpired in the past.

Your bubble of curiosity has finally burst.

"What does she want?" you ask tentatively, watching as his face morphs into a look of agitation. 

"Don't know, don't care," he answers dismissively. Your brows raise, and he sighs, fingers digging into his eyes tiredly. "I'm just sick of her."

You blink I'm surprise.

"Really? Well why don't-" you force the words to come out of your mouth slower. You lick your lips. "Why don't you leave her then, if you're sick of her? Doesn't seem fair to...string someone along like that."

At this, he laughs, but the sound is dry and dead in his throat. He looks far from amused. He looks...troubled. 

"I've tried. But every time I do she…" his jaw clenches. His brows are furrowed deeply, and he shakes his head. "Nothing. I'll deal with it myself."

His eyes beg you to drop it, and you do so reluctantly, yet your mind remains screaming. This piece of information told you everything and nothing all at once, and you need to shut down whatever bit of hope is ready to spring forth from the confines of your chest. You'll have to ask Himari what she thinks this means.

You give Atsumu an easy out, and he sighs in relief.

"Well. I suppose I will have to pay for your services with food, won't I? You can stay and finish watching the game."

He smirks cheekily, and it reminds you so much of the boy from high school that stole your heart and soul. The butterflies in your tummy awaken from their slumber, and flap their wilted wings sadly.

"Already got it covered. Samu said he's comin' over to see the apartment in an hour, and he's bringin' food as a gift. He got yakitori," he hums in delight, and your stomach gives a growl in response. Atsumu laughs at your expense. His head plops onto your shoulder, your breath catches in your throat, and with a gulp, you rest your head on his too, eyes falling shut.

(It makes you think of that time in the park, but now it would seem the roles were reversed in this silly little story.)

But once again, his phone rings, cuts through any bliss you've created, and the butterflies fall to the ground.

With a tut, he sits up, fiddles with the device momentarily, before flinging it in the direction of his bag by the door, returning to his place by your side once again.

He's finally turned off his phone.

(There is no fearful ring for the rest of the evening, only the sounds of laughter and playful bickering from the people you love.

As it should be.)

\---

“So,” you drawl, a little too light and airy to be as casual as you had hoped for. “What’s she like?”

Osamu snorts from beside you, and it makes you wince, knowing he could see past your pseudo-unbothered disposition. You scratch at your head sheepishly, keeping your eyes locked on the array of freshly picked vegetables lined up on the stall.

Osamu, ever the food lover (seriously, when _isn’t_ he around food at some point?), decided he was going to make you dinner at your apartment, to break in the new cutlery you had just bought for the place. He wanted to try out a new recipe, and you were never one to refuse his amazing cooking, so you had very little complaints when he asked you to accompany him to the best food markets you could find in Tokyo. 

Well, you complained about how early you had to wake up on your day off, but he said that getting there before the crowds gathered in force meant that he had first pick of the best ingredients. You weren’t a chef, so you might as well let the master do what he needs to do.

The food market was an assault on your senses - the smells of every type of food available, the bright colours of the stall signs, the sounds of the crowd that seemed to have shown up anyway despite getting there early, but knowing Tokyo, this was mild compared to how busy it could actually get. It was like stepping into another world entirely, and you wanted nothing more than to buy every delicious looking thing that you drooled over. The rare, bright grin on Osamu’s face, the face of one that was in their element, warmed your heart.

“Who wouldja be referrin’ to?” he asked with a raised brow, knowing exactly who you were talking about.

“Don’t get smart,” you scoffed. His smirk grew wider. “You know... _her.”_

“You can say her name. She’s not Voldemort,” he inspected the mushrooms in the basket carefully. He pursed his lips, dark eyes looking to you momentarily. “That’s up for debate, though.”

You laugh at him. He looks pleased as he collects a handful of the mushrooms from the vendor.

“I’m being serious! I only met her the one time and, well…it was a strange first impression.”

“I can imagine,” he moves onto perusing the onions in a separate basket. They all look the same to you, but Osamu seems to disagree. “I met her a few times, and my evaluation of her is that she’s a bitch. Plain ‘n simple. ‘Prolly likes the smell of her own shit, too. People like her usually do.”

A woman passing by widens her eyes at his words, and you're quick to bow in apology while she stalks off, looking over over her shoulder every so often in judgement. You burn in embarrassment, and quickly pull on Osamu’s ear, to which he scowls, prying your smaller fingers away from his lobe.

“Oi!”

“O-Osamu! Don’t say things like that so loudly!”

“Well it’s ‘prolly true. She’s so vain. Tried havin’ a conversation with her but she kept sendin’ snapchat videos of herself to her friends, so I gave up. I left halfway through a sentence, she didn’t even notice I was gone ‘til Tsumu came back from the toilet and asked where I was.”

He buys another handful of vegetables from a grinning vendor, and hangs the bag on his wrist. You follow like a shadow when he moves towards the stands that sell meat, pondering over this information with a grimace.

“Oh, wow...that’s…” you trail off, not even sure where to begin. What rude behaviour! Osamu is a delight to talk to, she should be lucky he even wasted his time with her. “Where did you go?”

“Went outside and walked in the nearby park for two hours ‘til Tsumu told me she left. He doesn’t blame me for leavin’ neither.”

“That’s really rude of her,” you frown, dutifully holding the bag of vegetables he passes to you while he inspects the different cuts of meat. He makes a noise of agreement, not taking his eyes off the raw meat displayed in front of him. It fascinated you, watching him do his thing, like an artist eyeing it’s muse, the paints, the canvas, before the first stroke of a brush. It makes you proud, seeing how far he’s come from watching YouTube videos of older women making lemon tarts to now planning a full dinner meal. You can’t wait for his dreams to come to fruition. 

“Yeah. Now all she does is throw me daggers ‘n pass some comment. _Every time I see her,”_ he sighs, picking up a large cut of beef and handing the appropriate amount of yen to the butcher and collecting the bag. Osamu leads you away from the butcher’s stall to a more secluded spot, and leans against the wall behind him, addressing you fully and allowing for conversation without interruption. 

“What kind of comments?” you ask, and watch as his lips curl up into a small sneer. It surprises you, seeing such an irritated expression on his face, one usually reserved for his brothers’ antics.

“‘Bout my career plans, the clothes I wear, my hair- which is better than that piss on Atsumu’s head, so I dunno what she’s gettin’ at-” he chuckles lightly when you laugh, his exasperation and familial rivalry with his brother always amusing you to no end. “She talks ‘bout how Tsumu is the better brother, and I _know_ she’s been smoking ‘sumn funky because that’s the biggest load of bull to ever come outta someone's mouth.”

You laugh again, shaking your head. You move to lean on the wall too, pressing to Osamu’s side and staring at the fairy lights hanging off of the signs around you. He sighs before continuing. 

“I ignored it at first, but when she kept doin’ it I eventually just told her to fuck off.” He scoffs, the sound tinged with disgust, like the thought of her sickens him, turns his stomach. “Then she started playin’ victim, sayin’ shit like she never meant it, ‘twas only a joke, how I’m blowing things way outta proportion- basically paintin’ me like the bad guy. Next thing I know, I get messages on Twitter from some of her weirdo friends telling me to leave her alone and stop bein’ mean. Apparently she posted about me on her Twitter.”

Your brows skyrocket to your hairline in complete shock and horror. She was posting about what Osamu had done to her? With the kind of social following a girl like Tomi would have, posting something negative about Osamu would have the power to drag his name through the dirt. He doesn’t look too bothered by it, but still. You would rather die than have the name of one of your beloved friends tarnished by lies. You stay silent, trying to absorb everything he’s saying. When you don’t speak up, he grunts, a sort of non-verbal agreement that _this girl sounds crazy._

“Like I said: bitch. And that’s bein’ nice. Tomi jus’ has to nitpick about everythin’- it gets on my fuckin’ nerves,” he growls, but the glower on his face fades into something more solemn, troubled, and the rare look on his normally apathetic visage causes the blood in your body to grow colder with worry. “She does it to Tsumu too. A lot.”

You think of Atsumu, of his thick skin and harsh attitude, and think of Tomi attempting to chip it away piece by piece, stomping on all the fragments until they are as fine as dust and scattered to the winds.

(Atsumu is strong; this, you know - as sure as the blood in your veins, the clouds that sprout rain, the bruises after pain. A constant, unchanging. 

But Atsumu is like you - he’s human. 

And there’s only so much a human can take before their limit is reached.)

Before you can speak up on the matter, Osamu shifts, brushing invisible speckles of dirt from his clothing, talking while he does so.

“I don’t like her. ‘N I don’t trust her. _At all.”_ He crosses his arms, and frowns, his beautiful and troubled grey eyes trained on a spot on your shoulder. “I dunno what Tsumu sees in that girl. Or what _anybody_ sees in her, to be honest with ya.”

You see her in your mind, her face playing like a horror film behind your lids on repeat. You see her body, her hair, her clothes, her smile - fake, undoubtedly, but oh so breathtaking just the same. 

It makes you self conscious, all too aware of how you might never compete with beauties like her, or dress as good as the models on the runways, or even be as smart as the inspiring and domineering business women that you wish to follow. It makes you feel so...dull, like a photo with faded colours, the subject blurry and forgotten. Maybe Lily, with her confidence and attitude, would stand a chance with the prettiest, the well liked, the envied queens. 

(Yes. You’re insecure. It happens, and it’s nothing to be ashamed of. But Atsumu of the past, the present, and the future, kisses them away, warns them off with whispered words, the writings of which sink deep into your skin to tattoo themselves on your heart. He is simple in his approach, and sometimes simple was all you needed.

You never realised how much you appreciated the boost until years later.)

“She’s really beautiful,” you murmured more so to yourself, staring in humiliation at your ratty sneakers. They’ve definitely seen better days. Osamu glances at you from the corner of his eye, at your newly dejected form, and looks away quickly when your eyes flit upwards to meet his. He scratches at the shaved part of his hair.

“She’s not my type,” he says, pushing away from the wall and moving onto another stall, the tips of his ears tinged with a rosy pink hue. You want to ask what his type is, curiosity overtaking the negative feelings from a moment ago, but Osamu interrupts your train of thought.

“But I will say this - she’s dangerous. There's something off about her,” he warns cryptically, and you gulp. 

You’re worried about Atsumu. Pushing aside your undying love for the idiot, you wouldn’t ever want to see your friend tangled up with a person like Tomi; from what you hear, she’s a self-centred and manipulative person, and Atsumu needs to get away from her spiders web as fast as he can.

You can only pray that something terrible hasn't already happened.

You're broken out of your thoughts with a tap to your nose. Your nose scrunches up at the feeling, and Osamu smirks.

“Plus, she insulted the sashimi I prepared for lunch, so she’s on my hit list now.”

You laugh loudly at that, and he looks proud when he moves his gaze back to the stalls.

"That _is_ a crime," you laugh, and drift near the stall lined top to bottom with colourful treats, a kind looking woman grinning at you and pointing out the top sellers. "Speaking of food…"

You approach this next subject carefully, because you know that Osamu isn't going to like what you're going to ask him. 

And with the way his eyes narrow just the slightest, he knows something is up and you aren't as slick as you think. 

You offer him an apologetic look in advance. "Atsumu asked me to join him for lunch this Friday and _obviously_ Tomi is going to be there and I really don't want to be a third whe-"

"No."

Simple. Blunt. Harsh. Classic Osamu.

You're not looking for 'classic Osamu' right now.

You grab his sleeve, trying to master your best pout. It works on Atsumu all the time, Osamu shouldn't be any different, right?

"Please, please, _please?"_ you whine, while Osamu remains stone faced. "I don't want to have to suffer through this lunch alone. I need someone to back me up when she inevitably starts running her mouth! Please go with me!"

"And ya want me to just sit there and take it when she starts nitpickin' me, too?" he bends down to view the pastries on the bottom shelves with a sigh. "Not gonna lie to ya, but I'd rather kiss Tsumu's smelly feet for an entire week than listen to her."

You groan, and lean all your weight onto his back, linking your arms around his neck. He nearly falls forward, and catches his balance at the last second with a loud 'oof'. The lady working there laughs, and turns her attention to decorating buns to give you some privacy.

"Oi, watch what yer-"

"Please Samu, I'm _begging_ you," the words are mumbled into the side of his neck, and you feel his body freeze up. "I'm…I'm not sure I'll be able to go through this alone. I need a friend by my side."

You release your hold on his neck once he taps your arm, rising slowly to meet your gaze head on. His face is almost blank except for a slight furrow of his dark brows, but you know that face to mean that he's thinking this over. _Progress._

"I really don't want to…" he drones, eyes cast to the side. You notice his hair has fallen from its usual side swept look, and now kisses his long lashes. You reach a hand up, and with your kindest, and most winning smile, begin to brush the hair out of his vision. Grey eyes snap to you in surprise, and widen just a bit.

"I promise that if you come with me, I will buy you whatever you want from the restaurant _and_ we can leave early with an excuse. We can do something fun afterwards!" You pause, fingers stalling from where they've been pushing his hair behind his ears. _"Please?"_

His resolve begins to waver, and his expression flits between a series of emotions before settling on a look of resignation, heaving a sigh with pursed lips and redeeming cheeks.

"Fine," he agrees, and you just barely restrain yourself from jumping up and down with joy. Better to have a best friend like Osamu there with his sharp insults and quick wits than having you sit there lamely, most likely with tears in your eyes and wanting to bolt out of the restaurant. He turns back to the lady working there and hands her some yen, pointing to one of the shelves. "But yer purse is gonna be feelin' a helluva lot lighter by Saturday."

You couldn't care less. You'll but him extra portions out of gratitude. You latch onto his arm again and squeeze it tight. 

_"Thank you."_ You release your hold on him when he flicks your forehead. He shakes his head, but there's a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. A few stray hairs remain on his forehead, and you're determined to shift his hair back into his usual do.

"Yeah, yeah," Osamu dismisses, blinking in surprise when he sees your handing returning to his face. His skin is warm when your fingers skim past his cheek.

"Think of it like a double date! That would be funny, wouldn't it?" you laugh lightly, and continue brushing soft wisps of his hair out of his eyes, eyes that look strangely sombre and wistful now as they meet yours. His smile is small, and doesn't quite meet his eyes, doesn't make the corners crease in the way that you adore. But you don't take too much notice of it, not when Osamu shoves the mochi treat he sneakily bought for you right in front of your eyes. 

You make a noise of delight, and begin stuffing your face as Osamu walks away to the next stand.

"Yeah," Osamu dryly laughs. "That'd be funny."

\---

The restaurant Atsumu had chosen for lunch was unlike any other you'd seen in Tokyo. 

Styled like one of those old-fashioned American diners you had seen in movies growing up, the walls are decorated with movie posters, vinyls and autographs of famous singers, barely leaving room for the actual baby blue wallpaper to shine through past the memorabilia. Neon lights give the diner a strange, but interesting glow, and the colours bounced off the glass frames of old celebrity paintings.

A huge jukebox sits in the corner, near the long, curved service bar where customers sit and drink their milkshakes, or munch on their fries while upbeat tones of some Ray Charles music echoes through the diner and into the ears of happy customers. 

The waiters and waitresses zip around on chunky skates, looking more like blue blurs than people as they deliver and serve in their striped blue shirts and shorts topped with dickie bows, balancing meals and drinks with practiced ease and serving with a smile.

And the _smell._ The delicious scent of fried food and spices waft through the air and succeed in making you drool like an idiot, staring longingly at the plates piled sky high with scrumptious burgers or hot dogs that zoom by to be delivered to another table. And to finish it all off with a sweet dessert like an ice-cream sundae or apple pie? Your bank account will hate you once you leave this restaurant. Everything is just too irresistible. 

Atsumu had been wanting to show you this place since forever, and you felt silly for putting it off for so long. It’s _perfect,_ makes you feel like you’ve stepped into a different world. The sights, the smells, the sounds, you’ve committed it all to memory now.

But of course, the blues of the diner become a tad duller, the music warbled, with Tomi sitting in front of you.

The dark blue leather seat beneath you squeaks when you shift uncomfortably, trying to keep your gaze trained on the menu in front of you and not on the ‘couple’ that sit across from you.

Osamu takes up the space to your right, and the window on your left shines light upon the laminated menu in your hands, the occasional shadow of a city goer passing by flickering on the page. You can feel Atsumu’s feet knock against yours beneath the table from his position directly in front of you, Tomi on his other side and looking like she’s taking up far too much space for his liking.

His brows are furrowed, and chocolate eyes sneak a look upwards at you and his brother every so often while he reads his menu. Tomi has barely glanced at the menu, instead taking the opportunity to take pictures of everything around her, and honestly you can’t blame her, the restaurant looks amazing. Atsumu, however, look’s fed up after the 8th selfie she forces him to take with her, though, with barely a lift of his lips to show any emotion. This stoic attitude he’s gained now worries you. 

“Everythin’ on the menu looks so _good,”_ comments Osamu, and both Atsumu and you make a noise of agreement. 

“I know! I really don’t know what I’m going to choose…” It really was a tough decision. You just want to eat _everything._

“Aww man...that double cheese ‘n bacon burger is really callin’ my name,” Atsumu says, a smack of his lips emphasising his choice. Out of the corner of your eye, Tomi takes yet another selfie. Your brow raises involuntarily. You’re guilty yourself of taking several selfies to get the right angle, but you’re really beginning to question whether her phone has that much space for all the pictures she took. You haven’t even been in the restaurant ten minutes yet.

“I dunno if I should get a hot dog, or the spicy chicken wings,” Osamu muses, having looked over the menu at least three times now. You nudge his shoulder with a smile.

“Hey, why don’t you get the hot dog, and we can share the wings between us? It’s my treat, after all!”

Atsumu’s head pops up faster than you can blink, eyes narrowed into slits as he stares at you and Osamu. The grey haired twin nods in agreement, and allows a small smile to grace his face.

“Sure, sounds good to me-”

“I-I wanna share a plate too!”

Everyone stares at Atsumu, his outburst garnering your attention. He flushes red, and grimaces when you chuckle gently at his disposition. Osamu just sighs and rolls his eyes. 

“That’s ok, you can share with us to-”

“Why don’t you share a salad with _me,_ Atsu?” Tomi interrupts, finally putting her phone down to lean into his side, where Atsumu looks like he’s trying very hard not to shrug her off. You cringe at the nickname, sounding so very different and foreign compared to what everyone else calls him. 

(Yet another thing to tick off your list of reasons why Tomi doesn’t belong with someone like Atsumu.)

Osamu pulls a face. “A salad? In a place like this?”

Tomi’s brow twitches, but she gives a stunning smile nonetheless. “Yes. A salad. The healthy option.” She returns her attention to Atsumu, and begins caressing his face with perfectly painted red nails. This time he _does_ move his face away from her, and shrugs her off of his shoulder. Her smile slips. “You are an upcoming athlete. You shouldn’t be eating carbs like this. A healthy salad is much better for you. And tastier!”

“A salad is as tasty as drywall,” Osamu retorts, and you cover your mouth so Tomi doesn’t see your smile. “Let my brother get what he wants.”

There’s a challenge in Tomi’s eyes as she stares Osamu down, and you feel the tension at the table begin to creep up your neck like spiders trailing a path on your flesh. You exchange a look with Atsumu, and bump your knees into Osamu’s leg to grab his attention but he doesn’t back down. 

“I’m just thinking of Atsumu’s wellbeing. He _i_ _s_ going to be a star athlete someday. You wouldn’t want to drag him down to _your_ level now, would you?” chimes Tomi. She rests her head on her hand, her long, lucious crimson hair falling over one shoulder while she pins Osamu with her icy smile. You gulp when you see a fire ignite in Atsumu’s eyes, the same fires that burn whenever it becomes a situation of ‘Miya’s VS The World’. For all the complaining he does about his brother, Atsumu would never let _anyone_ talk to his twin that way. He opens his mouth to speak, and gives Tomi an incensed expression.

“Oi, whaddya think yer-”

“I wouldn’t be the one draggin’ his sorry ass down,” Osamu easily retorts. His tone of voice is guarded, the high walls of his defenses coming up to safeguard himself and his twin from Tomi’s attacks. The redhead giggles, but it’s less than sweet, more so bitter, like a sour candy in one’s mouth.

“I’m not so sure. I seem to be the only person to care about his health.”

“Tsumu’s a big boy, he can take his own vitamins. He don’t need you bossin’ him around and, ya know, _“worryin’”_ about him.” His fingers come up to perform air quotes, the words detailing the insincerity of Tomi’s actions. You feel the need to try and de-escalate the growing argument, because sitting here was already bad enough without a catfight being thrown into the mix.

“Guys, c’mon, take it easy,” you touch Osamu’s shoulder, and his grey eyes finally look away from Tomi’s. He looks down at you blankly, but the sigh through his nose tells you that he’ll back down. For now, at least.

“Give it a rest, Tomi,” Atsumu snaps, and she looks mildly surprised that he isn’t fighting in her corner. The one thing you should know about Atsumu? Atsumu will always fight with and for his brother, against anyone and anything, even if he has to die on the hill defending him.

“I’m only trying to do what’s best for you, Atsumu,” she argues, pouting at him and rubbing her cheek on his bicep. The sight makes you sick, and also floods you with wave after wave of sadness, that someone like Tomi gets to spend this kind of time with him, that she can hold him and kiss him and love him like you were supposed to. 

Atsumu pulls his arm away to lean further against the window. He laughs, and it’s dry and sardonic.

“Yeah, sure.”

Tomi makes no comment, and instead looks at you for the first time this since you got here. You kinda wish she’d ignore you again, you feel safer that way.

“And what about you?”

“Huh?” you answer, confused at her question. It makes her annoyed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, what do _you_ do for Atsumu?” she quips. There's something in the way she looks at you, as if searching for a problem she can call out and get rid of. You scramble to say something that would make sense of her odd question, but thankfully Atsumu cuts her off. He looks irate, staring down his nose at her.

“Leave her _a_ _lone._ Stop with the lame questions.” She’s given no opportunity to retort, as a waiter skates up to your booth, pen, pad and smile at the ready.

“Good evening, everyone! Are you ready to give your orders?”

The waiter makes no face of judgement at the pile of dishes and milkshakes you and Osamu relay to him, and he simply writes it down dutifully before turning his attention to the others. Atsumu points at his menu.

“I’ll have a double cheese ‘n bacon burger with some nachos and a chocolate milkshake, _please,”_ he smiles brightly, tucking his menu back into the stand sitting in the centre of the table. Tomi coughs, and he drags his eyes to her face.

“Atsu, honey, I thought we were going to share a sal-”

“I don’t want it.” With that said, Atsumu turns his attention to ripping up some of the napkins in front of him, his long fingers fidgeting and tearing. The waiter senses the unease at the table, and offers Tomi a sympathetic smile. She responds by scowling at him.

“I’ll have the salad and some chicken strips,” she says, and crosses her arms. The waiter nods awkwardly, and writes down her order. “Oh, don’t drown it in dressing, either. And get me some water, too.”

“Right away, miss.”

The waiter makes his exit swiftly, skating past customers and back to the kitchens. God, this is tense. Your leg bounces on the floor.

You try to break the ice.

“So, Tsumu. Any more news about volleyball signings?”

He perks up at the topic, and smiles lopsidedly. 

"Yeah, actually. Can't say who they are 'cause I don't wanna jinx anything if they don't sign me, but things are lookin' good. I'm gonna be trainin' a lot over the summer."

"Wow, that's great! You're getting closer every day, I'm so proud! You've worked so hard for this." 

His smile is soft, and those mischievous butterflies in your gut swirl in glee.

"Thanks for always supportin' me, doll."

Oh gosh, your face is burning. You purse your lips at the nickname, and avoid the look he's trying to send your way.

None too gently, Tomi elbows him in the side in faux nonchalance. He hisses in pain, and turns to look at her, as if he had forgotten she was there. 

Osamu speaks up again before she can bite into him. You can't really blame her, you suppose you wouldn't like any boyfriend of yours calling his friends 'doll'.

"'Bout time, too. I thought you were gonna get signed straight outta school, but I guess you ain't good 'nuff."

The blonde twin glares, and a red flush makes its way up his neck. "Shut yer trap, Samu! Ya ain't funny!"

Osamu shrugs indifferently, but you know his words were just a joke. He's very proud of his brother, but would be the last person to tell Atsumu. 

"Yer so annoyin'," huffs Atsumu. You bite your lip, trying not to laugh at the kicked puppy look he's sporting. No point in adding more salt to the wound. "Ya know what? I'm never gonna eat yer food ever again!"

Another shrug from Osamu. "Fine by me. Starve for all I care."

Atsumu smirks. "Least I can get better omelettes from literally anywhere."

Oh no. That's a direct attack on Osamu. Strangely, Osamu was never any good at making omelettes, no matter how many times he tries. Maybe you can't be good at _everything._ You kick Atsumu under the table with a look that pleads for him to apologise, but he kicks back. Osamu goes stiff with irritation beside you.

Here we go.

"Oi, shaddup! Least I can cook. That's more than you. You'd be livin' on instant ramen for life if it weren't for me havin' to baby you."

"I don't need you babyin' me! I'm just fine on my own, like you said!"

Osamu scowls. He leans back into seat and crosses his arms, while your eyes flit continuously between the two boys. It's better to let them have their petty squabble and lose some steam.

"Fine then."

Atsumu mimics his actions, and crosses his own arms.

"Fine!"

"No meals for a week, then. You can cook yer own food, ya know, since ya don't need me babyin' you."

Atsumu turns white. This time, you _do_ laugh.

"H-Hold on! I never said anythin' about not _wanting_ your dinners. I'll still eat them!"

"You just said you weren't gonna eat my food any more-"

"That was the past! This is the present! Keep up, Samu."

"I don't care."

Atsumu turns his attention to you, face full of exasperation.

"C'mon, help me out here!"

Your hand finds one of his that rest atop the table, and pat it sympathetically.

"You've dug your own grave, Tsumu. I'm sorry."

Osamu looks smug. Atsumu looks irate. 

Tomi's face is blank as she watches the exchange in silence.

"I thought you were on my side!" Atsumu pouts, an exaggerated and childish thing. You sigh, and face his twin.

"Can't you just cut out _one_ meal a day? Like lunch or something?"

Osamu tuts. "He doesn't deserve the food if he's gonna be an ungrateful shit like that."

Atsumu growls. He grabs a straw from the cup in the centre and waves it threateningly at a disinterested Osamu. "'m gonna shove my fist so far up yer-"

"Your accents, they're very...interesting," interrupts Tomi, like a knife popping a balloon. Her smile has returned, but it looks like more of a grimace. "They get kind of tiring to hear after a while, though."

Three sets of brows raise, and stare at her in disbelief. Atsumu's lip curls.

"Huh? Whaddya mean by that?"

"You makin' fun of us?" Osamu asks her, and she's quick to raise her hands at the show of hostility.

"Hey, no need to attack me! I was just going to say it's a bit hard to understand, sometimes. You both have a really thick accent."

The twins still scowl at her in sullen silence. For her sake, you speak up. Himari will kill you ("fraternising with the enemy!") but you sort of feel bad for her. The twins can be awkward to deal with.

"I understand what you mean," you laugh a little, and her hazel eyes are quick to meet yours, smile slipping from her face. You swallow thickly at the sudden change in expression. "They have a thicker accent than most. It gets worse when they're angry, but you get used to it after a while."

You ignore the sets of scoffs coming from the brothers. Tomi's eyes look down, and remain fixated on a spot at the table.

"Cute," is all she answers with.

You don't get a chance to talk further, as two waiters arrive, arms loaded with divine smelling food and drink to set on the table. It's only then, when her attention is drawn elsewhere, do you realise what she was looking at.

Atsumu never took his hand away from earlier, and instead subtly curled his fingers around yours.

(It feels warm, soft, and if you close your eyes, you could imagine this to be your first date with Atsumu; just you and him, sharing a milkshake and never looking away for fear of disappearing forever.

But it isn't your first date. It's a 'double date' with his _girlfriend._

And so you must say goodbye to the warmth and safety of his touch.)

You remove your hand quickly, hoping he won't notice.

(He does.)

His eyes meet and stay on yours for a moment, just a fraction of a second, but it feels like a lifetime of things left unsaid, of things left undone.

Your loaded fries suddenly don't seem as appetising any more.

God, this was going _terribly._

The table tucks into the food, and no conversation was to be had, only words of praise for the delicious food and the occasional appreciative hum. 

Osamu passes you another chicken wing, one you gladly take, but one look at Atsumu's burger filled pout, and you melt, reluctantly but not regretfully handing the wing over to his plate. He beams, and you grimace at the food showing in his mouth, but laugh all the same.

"Yer always takin' stuff and not givin' anything back," Osamu sighs. He grabs some fries from your plate at your insistence. 

"Oi, that ain't true," Atsumu snaps.

"Oh yeah?" Osamu challenges. His blonde counterpart raises his brows. "Then where's my headphones?"

With a mouth full of food, Atsumu begins to splutter, bits and pieces of chewed up burger flying everywhere. While highly gross, you're not unused to the extreme displays of childishness from the blonde, and it makes you and Osamu laugh as you try to dodge the food, Osamu making a show using a menu from the stand as a shield.

"H-Hold on a minute, I-"

"Atsumu, that is _disgusting._ Please swallow your food, I can't _stand_ that. It makes me sick!"

Tomi's face is full of disgust. She scoots as far away as possible from Atsumu, tossing napkins in his direction and looking like she's doing everything in her power not to gag.

Atsumu begrudgingly picks up a napkin and wipes his mouth with a frown.

"'S just a bit of food, no need to get all snippy over it."

"It's gross, Atsumu," she sighs, flips her hair over her shoulder and resumes picking at her salad. Under her breath, but still not quiet enough for the table, she mumbles, "I swear, manners must not exist in a place like Hyogo."

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Osamu sending you a look, as if to say _'I told you so.'_ He decides to change the subject while Atsumu rolls his eyes at Tomi, angrily sipping at his milkshake.

"Speakin' of Hyogo, on Monday Tsumu 'n I are heading back home for two weeks."

Oh. That's...so soon. And for so long, too. You don't mind the boys going away, maybe the break away could do you some good - time to breathe and freshen up without your heart shattering in Atsumu's presence constantly. But since you had reunited with the boys again, you've always been with one or the other. To have them both gone will be strange.

"Oh. You gonna catch up with your old friends?"

"Plannin' to," Osamu answers. "We're hopin' to get them all together for some drinks. Obviously we haven't seen mom or dad in a while too, and we wanna go somewhere cool with them, bring Yuta to the arcade or 'sumn."

"Want us to bring back anythin' while we're there?" Atsumu asks. "You can always come with us for the ride, but I know the whole deal with yer parents." Osamu nods in agreement. You feel Atsumu's foot tap yours in understanding, and when you look at him, he's wearing a small smile.

You smile kindly at both of them, but shake your head. "I'm good, but thank you. And I don't need anything from home, I think. I just want you to give Yuta a big hug and a kiss from me!"

Atsumu snorts. "Yeah, as if that'll happen."

Knowing how soft Atsumu is for his baby brother, _of course_ it'll happen.

"Why didn't you invite me to come, Atsu?" Tomi asks, and Atsumu stops mid chew. She snuggles up to his side, and you have to look away. Every touch of her skin to his makes yours itch. "I could come and meet the parents. Or should I say, 'the in-laws?"

She giggles, but no one else joins in. You hear Atsumu heave a sigh of annoyance.

"Because it's a _family_ trip."

"Yeah, but I'm your _girlfriend,"_ she counters. Osamu leans onto your shoulder, and moves his mouth closer to your ear, warm puffs of his breath tickling your ear.

"This is gonna get messy," he whispers, and you can only nod in agreement.

"Doesn't matter," the blonde twin retorts, dismissing her with a wave of his hand. Tomi watches the movement with bubbling fury, the smooth facade she wears beginning to crack. "'Sides, we haven't been together that long. Don't think the family should meet you yet."

The statement strikes you as odd. As far as you know, Atsumu never really cared about how long he was with a girl before his parents saw her. You remember his mom telling you that he would arrive on her doorstep with a new girl so often, she stopped trying to remember all their names after a while. 

Atsumu doesn't care about who he brings home. So why refuse to bring Tomi?

The redhead herself fixes her sharp gaze on yours, a delicate furrow to her brow belying a sea of rage swirling beneath her skin.

"Then why ask _her?"_

Oh no.

A similar rage washes over Atsumu's expression as he addresses Tomi.

" _She's_ got a name," he snaps.

"Answer my question."

"Is it not obvious? She's from Hyogo, same as me."

 _"So?_ You should be asking me to go with you! Don't you care about me?" 

Atsumu rolls his eyes. "I ain't dealin' with this now, Tomi."

“Then when can we deal with it?” She points a finger at you. “What’s so special about her? Why would you want her to go, and not me? _I’m your girlfriend._ I should take priority over your friends-”

 _“I don’t care._ And _don’t_ talk about her like that _.”_

With the rising volume of the argument, it has begun to attract the curious stares of customers nearby, all turning their nosy heads towards the petty argument taking place. You duck your head, face burning and eyes stinging with tears of embarrassment.

“You don’t care?” Tomi scoffs, lacking all humour. _“You don't care?_ So do I mean nothing to you? Do you seriously care more about some random girl from back home that probably only wastes your time-”

_“Tomi. Shut. Up.”_

There’s an ugly sneer on Atsumu’s beautiful face, and it contorts his features so much, until all you see is a mask of anger and disgust. 

Osamu leans forward, arms crossed on the table and levelling Tomi with a look of silent wrath, his own sort of anger to complement his twins.

“Tomi,” he starts, with a tone so cold, you wonder if Osamu has suddenly been possessed by a ghost. You’ve never heard this tone directed towards you before. “Stop stickin’ yer nose in where it don’t belong. If my brother doesn’t wanna take ya home, then ya need to think about why there’s a reason for that.” He bobs his head in your direction, and she looks at you briefly before returning her blank stare to Osamu. “Leave her alone, too. She didn’t do anythin’.”

“She’s our friend. Just ‘cause yer my... _girlfriend,”_ Atsumu has to force the word out of his mouth, “doesn’t mean that I’ll stop carin’ about her. I never will. So either deal with it, or leave.”

The table turns quiet, and you want nothing more than to get up and leave the restaurant. The pressure from Atsumu’s feet tapping against yours and the heat from Osamu’s body beside you help keep you grounded, to remind you that you’re not alone here, this isn’t like school, that they’re with you.

But Tomi looks cornered, and alone, and for all her snide comments, you feel bad for her.

“Whatever,” she says. Atsumu plays with the straw from his drink, Osamu picks idly at the remainder of his food, and Tomi pulls her phone out, taking another round of pictures of the table, the food in various states of disarray. It ticks Atsumu off, who sends her an annoyed look.

“Seriously? More pictures? When are ya gonna stop with that...”

“It’s for my Insta page, Atsumu. You know this. I already talked about this disaster of a lunch date on my story earlier, I need to post the pictures for my followers. I can’t let my account lose steam, they want the best photos.”

Atsumu clearly doesn’t understand her reasoning, so he says nothing and shakes his head in exasperation, muttering _'lame'_ under his breath.

This lunch date has brought to your attention something about Tomi that seems oddly...familiar. You couldn’t place it at first, but seeing her now, as she takes picture after picture, no doubt painting a lovely image of what was a terrible lunch, her need to stay current, to have her name on everyone's lips, to not fall behind, so that others can judge her for her flaws and faults, it...

Your eyes wander to Atsumu.

...seems familiar. 

(And you feel nothing but pity. Seems like everyone is caught in a trap, at least once in their lives.)

You clear your throat, and take a deep breath. 

“Do you have a huge Instagram following, Tomi?”

She looks at you with an expression that clearly says she thinks you’re dumb, but still answers you, albeit a bit rudely. 

“Well, yeah. Obviously. I have over a hundred thousand followers. People love my selfies.”

“Oh! I-I don’t follow social media much so I didn’t know that. That’s actually really interesting.”

She looks up from her phone, and you catch a hint of suspicion in her eyes. Atsumu frowns at you, and taps on your foot twice. You tap back, as if to say _‘it’s fine. I got this.’_ He says nothing, but keeps an eye on you.

“So, do you post a lot about your life? And the stuff you do, like trips and college?” Tomi nods. “Wow, that sounds like it’s a lot of work, but clearly a lot of people like it! Do you want to be a model or something?”

Tomi bites at the corner of her pink lips, and places her phone on the table.

“...yeah, I do,” she answers timidly. You give her an encouraging smile. “It’s why I post a lot of selfies and stuff, so big companies will notice me.” She coughs, and moves to examine her nails. “I mean, I’ve already done a _lot_ of modelling gigs already, you know? I’m just sort of waiting until a big label takes me on.”

Osamu lets out a huff of amusement through his nose, but you’re quick to pinch his thigh to stop him. His leg jerks, and he scowls down at you.

But you still stare at Tomi, and you smile as warmly as you can at her. She fidgets in her seat, and doesn’t meet your eyes much.

“That sounds amazing. I really wish you the best of luck with everything, and I hope that happens for you. Who knows, maybe I’ll end up seeing you on a huge billboard somewhere!”

Tomi returns your gaze for a long time, but then, ever so slowly, like a flower blooming at the start of spring, she gives you a small smile. A tiny thing, but more genuine than all the rest. You think it looks much nicer on her.

“Thanks.”

Your heart still hurts, but you still smile at her. Because sometimes people just need a little kindness.

Fingers on your knee startle you a bit, and you discover that Atsumu has his hand hidden under the table. He traces letters onto your skin, and it takes you a moment to figure out what he’s saying.

_‘Too kind’_

You give him a tired smile, and he mirrors it.

_‘I know’_

(Yes. You’re all too aware. Because you will go home alone, and Tomi will go home with Atsumu. And you’re too kind to do anything about it.)

\---

The two weeks following the lunch date were quiet and lonely. 

You and Osamu had left soon after the argument that broke out, making up some excuse about Himari wanting lessons in how to make onigiri, anything to just pay your half of the bill and bolt out of the restaurant. You were sad, tired, and just wanted a moment to yourself where you didn't have to put on a brave face.

Tomi never said goodbye when you got up to leave. Atsumu looked _miserable_ as you gathered your things, his eyes pleading with you to stay, to not leave his side, to not leave him alone with Tomi. And you wished more than anything that you could grab a hand from both of the twins and just run away, to that special place in your heart, to that summer that seems like a lifetime ago.

But you didn’t. And you left. And when Osamu finally left your side that evening, you cried. Again. 

Himari said nothing, but dropped cookies and tea into your room, along with a fresh box of tissues. You were endlessly grateful for the space and support this angel provides you, and you silently say a prayer to whatever deities are listening that everything Himari wants or needs in life, will be handed to her on a silver platter because she deserves it.

And you say another, a whispered one, to Lily, because despite everything, Lily was always helped when you needed it. And so you ask her, wherever she is, to help you. To bring Atsumu back to you, to never let people like Tomi or Daishou get in the way again, to guide him into your heart once more.

Maybe you're just being a hopeless fool wishing on a shooting star long since passed and burnt out.

(And still, your lips silently say the words anyway, in the dark of your room, under the weight of your blanket. You say them where the world can't hurt you, where the only thing that matters is him.)

You spend the time away from the twins in thought.

Thoughts about Atsumu, most of all, but also thoughts of Tomi, of if they actually love each other. Thoughts of how different your life would be if you hadn't walked out the front door of his house that one fateful day and never looked back. Thoughts of how if you were seated anywhere but the seat next to the window, your life would not be the same.

It was strange seeing them together. Because while you expected disgusting, mushy affection shoved into your face like a knife, but that's not what you got.

What you saw instead was Tomi attempting to cling to Atsumu every second she could, and Atsumu pushing her away just as hard. You heard the harsh words laced in sugar that fell from her plush lips, and you saw the darkening of Atsumu's face, the flinch, the bags under his eyes grow heavier.

It's certainly not how couples should treat each other. Osamu said the same thing. And to think Tomi could be worse behind closed doors? 

Your heart aches for Atsumu in more ways than just longing.

Your phone remained mostly silent while the boys were in Hyogo, except for the occasional text or phone call. Not _unexpected_ per say, because you figured the boys would want to spend quality time with friends and family, but it's odd to have your phone not vibrate constantly because either one of them have gossip or a meme to show you.

For the first few days, Atsumu had texted you as usual; a good morning text, asking how you are, telling you what he's doing, a good night text. And then suddenly he went quiet. The messages became few and far between.

You asked Osamu about it at the start of the second week, when Yuta had insisted that his brother call you so he could tell you all about his trips to the park with his friends. Osamu had paused, and for a second you thought he hung up, but them he sighed quietly, wearily, and told you that Atsumu is just working through things, that he _'might have finally got a grip',_ whatever that meant.

If you thought the first week was lonely, the second was worse when Himari told you she was going on a sudden vacation with her own family. She had looked so guilty when she told you and nearly got down on her knees and begged you to come with her. You refused (because who has money to go to Greece when you're a broke student?) and insisted you were fine. 

(You weren't, but she didn't need to know that. You didn't like making people worry about you.)

Himari obviously didn't believe you, but let it go once you told her you'd be happy with a nice souvenir. One hug and _'have a safe trip'_ later, you were the only sign of life left in the apartment. No one could judge you for crying. 

Kuroo and Bokuto had invited you out to dinner with them, to cheer you up and keep you company. And it did work for some time, you felt better after spending hours in their presence.

If Bokuto was like a happy pill, Kuroo was the cool water to swallow it down. Contrasting personalities, but after spending some time with them, you've come to realise they're the same idiot in different bodies. They sort of remind you of the twins, in a way. Red and blue, yet share one braincell.

And of course, because you're a glutton for pain, you asked about Tomi and Atsumu. 

It was almost comical, how both men grimaced and scowled simultaneously. Kuroo was the one to say it's complicated, that there was more to it than he could share, that Atsumu has to be the one to tell you about it once he finally gets a grip, like Osamu had said. He wouldn't elaborate any more on that, and you were honestly left with more questions than answers, but he smiled warmly, the first proper smile you've seen on him, and said _'good things come to those who wait.'_

Bokuto on the other hand was quite open with his dislike for Tomi. Kuroo didn't hide his distaste for the woman either, but at least he was less vocal about it in public. He had to smack Bokuto on the forehead every time he referred to her as the 'evil temptress'. 

And Bokuto made sure to show you something interesting on Tomi's Instagram page and story, similar to what Himari had shown you as well the week before;

A little rant of hers, about how boyfriends were the worst, how they were liars, cheaters, etc. This went on for at least twenty slides, each description and detail getting progressively angrier and more vicious, that you can almost taste the malice on your tongue. 

What shocks you most, though, is how on the nose it is. With how many photos of Atsumu can be found on her account, it doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together and realise that she’s talking about him. But that’s what baffles you - this person she claims to be nearly worse than the Devil is _not_ Atsumu. He would _never_ do these things.

Would he?

The pair were quick to try and dissuade your fears and anxieties. Because as Bokuto showed you more of these vicious, hateful posts, it became very clear to you that Tomi seemed like a very dangerous person. 

For every post made about infidelity, about a man not treating a woman right, about how men should not pay more attention to other women while in the same room as her (that was posted the day of the lunch date, and your stomach dropped at the realisation that the woman she was referring to was _you),_ there was a flood of comments. Comments of support, of equally spiteful messages. Some were against, but they were lost amongst the many.

And nearly all of the comments had something to say about Atsumu.

_'Wow, he's such an asshole!! Dump his ass!!!'_

_'Miya Atsumu needs to get a reality check. He's been breaking too many girls hearts'_

_'Fuck men fr, dont waste any more of your time on him'_

_'You poor thing!! You don't deserve that kind of treatment! Atsumu needs to realise what kind of amazing woman he has!'_

They're painful to look at, that these lies have people so easily fooled and willing to turn on such a wonderful person, but it gets much worse. When you had checked Atsumu's own account, you noticed his posts were flooded with comments too - minions sent from Tomi's rants.

They were even more cruel than the others. They were direct attacks, targeting his looks, his personality, his skills, accusing him of being the vile person Tomi painted him as. And you _know_ he's seen the comments, because Atsumu always checks the comments left on videos of his serves, or on pictures of his family and friends to ensure nothing nasty is said about them.

And like an infection that has taken root and spread, his latest posts have nothing but hateful comments on it. And it kills you to know he has to look at and deal with all these people coming down on him like an angry mob, demanding apologies for something he hasn't done. 

_‘You should be ashamed of yourself, treating women the way that you do’_

_‘Wow your serve is almost as bad as your respect for your girlfriend xx’_

_‘So you slept with my friend and break her heart and now you’re doing it again??? Prick!!’_

_‘You ugly asshole i hope you break your neck for what you did to her’_

They just continue to get worse, each churning your stomach in the most violent ways. Some involved his family, too, and it sickened you that these innocent people were being dragged into an affair that had nothing to do with them. You stopped Bokuto from showing any more to you after the 5th post. You really could not bear to look at another vile comment or else you would have started crying again.

The world really loves to be cruel.

Just before parting ways, Bokuto had wrapped you up in a tight hug, exclaiming:

“Please wait for Atsumu a little longer!”

-before running back to Kuroo’s side and receiving a shove from the raven haired man. Whatever this meant, you weren't sure, but Bokuto's bright eyes filled you with a newfound sense of hope that felt dangerous.

What if you wait, and he never comes back? Will you be able to move on? You suppose you’ll have to eventually, but what scares you even more is that you don’t want to.

(It sounds too pathetically romantic of you to say, but Atsumu had been your first love, and you’d want him to be your last.

Only when the seas turn to sand, and the sun dies, and the air is gone from the earth, will you move on from this lovable idiot.

It’s terrifyingly wonderful.)

When the twins returned from Hyogo, your phone remained quiet. 

You allowed them a day or two settle after a long trip away, but your lips were nearly chewed to bits, constant biting from the worry beginning to set in. Not even a message from Osamu. You tried Suna in an act of desperation, but all he could offer was that he was currently still in Hyogo and hadn’t heard much from Atsumu. 

So you spent those extra few days in familiar solitude, nary a soul in sight to smile at you. Well, the neighbour's cat liked to pay a visit to your balcony every once in a while, but he rarely stays once you start confiding in him all your woes. You don't blame him. 

As if a friend in misery, the rain hadn’t stopped pouring for the past few days. It was like the heavens above were weeping for you, and the rain fell in buckets. The streets were filled with what looked like floating umbrellas, and unfortunate passersby rushing to duck beneath any form of shelter poking out from the walls of the city.

It was interesting to watch from above, the lives of others; the businessman on his way to work to make a living, the rowdy teens still blasting music above the roar of the thunder, the couples holding hands and messing around in the puddles.

Your thoughts were broken, shattered like glass that afternoon, by harsh knocks on the wood of your front door.

A quick check to your phone revealed no missed calls or messages of anyone arriving on your doorstep, only some messages from Himari talking about her trip.

With a frown, you got up, wiped any remnants of fatigue from your face as best you could when you gave yourself a once over in the mirror, and made your way to the door.

The knocking never stopped, only continued to get louder and more desperate, echoing like drum in your empty and lonely apartment.

It was with a twinge of fear (all those crime documentaries Himari forced you to watch suddenly crept to the forefront of your mind, and you ran through the quickest pathway to the cutlery drawer in the kitchen in your mind) that you stopped in front of your door, in front of the knocking. You felt like the force of it was beating against your chest, but surmised that it was in fact your heart hammering in your rib cage in time with the stranger on the other side.

Deep breath.

(This felt different. You had fears of an intruder, of course, but this felt like something else. This felt like change, like the start of a new story. The answer to all your questions.)

You threw the door open before you could think too much.

You flinched in response to the fist that nearly hit your face before it paused mid-air, and followed the arm upwards to the person who had been urgent in grabbing your attention this evening. 

A familiar mop of blonde hair was the first thing you saw, and it was wet, plastered in damp strings to his forehead. In fact, Atsumu was soaked to the bone, heaving in air like his lungs couldn’t get enough. 

Those eyes, those brown orbs that make you melt, were wet too. And it was strange. It was not from the rain. You had only seen this once in your life, had _c_ _aused_ it, and never wished to see it again. And yet here it was, gazing at you in such awe and heartbreak.

“Atsumu?” you whispered, afraid to pierce whatever was charging in the air.

He opened his mouth, but whatever he was going to say was lost, as he choked on a sob instead.

On instinct you reached out to him, held his face gently in your hands, cradled him closely to your chest, reminded him of where he belonged. And he clutched onto your form like a crying child, releasing sob after sob after sob, until you weren’t even sure if this was the Atsumu you knew in your arms, instead a stranger of despair and pain.

Your heart, still beating hard and fast, ached with him, and you coaxed his head into rising so you could look at his beautifully broken face.

“What’s wrong?” you asked. His thick brows furrowed, his hands held you tighter, and he shook his head, leaning his forehead on yours.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he cried, eyes locked onto yours, now wide with a sudden icy fear creeping up your back. Couldn’t do what? Your lips wouldn’t allow the question to pass your lips. Atsumu continued regardless.

“I- I can’t.” He swallowed down another sob, and with a face full of resolve, he moved his hands to hold your face now, his thumbs rubbing on your cheekbones so delicately despite his trembling form. Your breath was caught in your chest. His eyes were moving a mile a minute, taking in every piece of you like it held the answer to his puzzle. “I’m done with fuckin’ up my life.”

His brown orbs finally settled on yours, and the love within them stopped your heart, the beat stilling momentarily as it awaited whatever was coming next. 

“I love you.”

It was a whisper that sounded like a shout in your ears, the words bouncing off the walls in joy, reverberating over and over again in your heart and mind and soul, chipping away at the sorrow built up within you at a faster pace than you could progress. It felt like _life_ was returning to your veins.

Atsumu tugged your face closer to his, and you went willingly, your heart held in his hands, without hesitation or fear of what he might do with it. 

Atsumu touched his lips to yours.

(You were alive again.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry to leave it on such a cliffhanger lol! and the next chapter might take a bit longer to come out (depends on my flow and when inspiration hits!) because of my mini holiday and also because i want to finish some other stories i'm in the middle of writing - i currently have 2 WIPs for my baby boy osamu (one of which is linked to this fic!) and i would love to get them out before the next chapter!  
> (i also need to finish my atsumu apocalypse fic, damn...)  
> ah well!  
> I hope everyone has a lovely weekend, and that you're all staying safe and hydrated!


	11. the tipping point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyyyy i'm finally finished with this chapter omg it gave me so much grief lol and i can't apologise enough for how long it took to come out!! please enjoy this chapter tho, and hopefully everyone will feel a lot happier than they have with the last few chapters hahaha
> 
> WORD OF WARNING: this chapter gets a bit heavy with manipulation and blackmailing and stuff like that. nothing too crazy imo, but i thought i would say it regardless in case it makes people upset/triggers bad feelings or memories. i only ever want people to enjoy my stories!! 
> 
> safe and happy reading everyone!! feedback is always appreciated! <3

_**3 WEEKS EARLIER** _

* * *

Atsumu wants to scream.

Not in the  _ ‘wow life is so amazing, I just want to shout from the rooftops about how happy I am and how perfect the world is!’  _ way. He’d  _ beg  _ to be able to enjoy that scenario.

No, Atsumu wants to scream in the  _ ‘this is a cry for help, somebody please save me because my life is fucking miserable and I don’t know what to do about it’  _ kind of way. The  _ bad  _ kind of way.

A person like Tomi just kind of does that to you.

Atsumu could compare her to a blood sucking leech (he would have said vampire, but then he thought that vampires were too cool and sexy, things that Tomi definitely wasn’t) - she was mentally and physically exhausting to deal with 24/7, and he just had no energy to even try to be nice to her. He gave up on that a long time ago. It’s not like he’s suddenly flipped a switch and started calling her names, or degrades her. No, he’s just fed up with dealing with her nitpicking and whining, and instead ignores her and gives blunt one-word answers in the hopes that she’ll get annoyed and just leave.

But despite his blatantly rude attitude and mannerisms towards her, she still won’t release her sharp teeth from his neck, and continues to suck and bleed him dry of every emotion he is capable of making until he is just a shell of regret, an empty vessel for her to use and abuse.

And still, she  _ takes. _

And he is so  _ tired of it.  _

He walks around like a dead man in search of life again.

So the simple solution to this problem would be to break up with this woman he never had any intentions of being with to begin with, right?

Right!

Tomi makes it very difficult for him to solve this problem, however. 

Atsumu is pretty certain he holds the record for the most times anyone has uttered the phrase “I want to break up”. At first, he’d say it once a week, with a polite  _ ‘look, yer a great gal, but I’m just not interested. I want to break up. I’m sorry.’ _

She answered that with an even busier schedule of dates to forget all about whatever Atsumu said, and kept on smiling. Anything he tried to do to get out of it was buried under sugar coated black mail and pouts that would put a child to shame. 

If Atsumu was worried before, he was even more so now.

Nothing he did worked. Every refusal was ignored in favour of a happy looking picture for her social media accounts, and it got to the point where he felt like he was just an invisible force hovering around her, like some ghost chained to the person who killed him. And that wasn’t even the worst of it.

As time went on, his own hands digging his grave relentlessly as Tomi laughed and watched, the sweet words turned to poison.

She was cruel.

_ “Look, Tomi. I don’t think this is workin’. I wanna end th-” _

_ “You know what wasn’t working? The first night we slept together.” _

_ Tomi laughs. _

_ “I mean, gosh, you really weren’t trying your hardest, were you? You were so drunk, you could barely get it up...kind of pathetic. Oh, but don’t worry, I still love you! Even though our first time was awful, I’m sure the rest will be better! If you ever decide to take me to bed…” _

She was disgustingly cunning.

_ “I’m busy trainin’. I can’t meet you today.” Not that he wants to, anyway. _

_ “Hmm...you’re always training, aren’t you? Seems kind of a waste for a career that might not go anywhere…” _

_ Tomi laughs into the phone. _

_ “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Atsumu had asked, a rage building inside of him, her words sharp and mocking the one passion he carried with him since childhood. _

_ “I’m just saying, you might want to invest more time into college. Volleyball won’t last forever.” _

_ “And who are  _ **_you_ ** _ to say that? Huh?! S’pose modellin’ won’t last forever, too. What are you gonna do then?” he retorts. _

_ “Yes it will-” _

_ “It might not, but who am I to stop ya? Stop saying useless shit like that. Pisses me off.” _

_ “You shouldn’t raise your voice at me. People might get the wrong impression if they hear what kind of stuff you say.” _

_ She says it in a dark voice, threateningly, but Atsumu gets the message loud and clear. _

_ He hangs up. _

She attacks directly at the heart.

_ “Your friends...I’m not sure I like them.” _

_ “Why do I care if ya like ‘em or not? They’re  _ **_my_ ** _ friends.” His nostrils flare as he tries to quiet his growing temper in public. _

_ “I just don’t think they’re the right kind of friends you should have. I mean, my friends are amazing, you would love them-” _

_ “I don’t care. I like my friends. I ain’t plannin’ on changing ‘em any time soon. Not for you, not for  _ **_anyone._ ** _ ” _

_ And Tomi fucking laughs as she always does, like Atsumu’s entire existence is just one big joke to her. _

_ (Maybe it is.) _

She hits hardest when she targets you, and it makes him nervous every time she does.

_ “That friend of yours- gosh, I can’t remember her name! Anyway! I never knew her sister killed herself...that’s so sad.” _

_ His heart stops. _

_ “Where did ya find that out?” _

_ “Nothing stays hidden on the internet, Atsu.” She smiles. “That is super sad though, and to think! Not many people actually know about it.” _

_ She presses a sparkling and perfectly polished pink nail to her lips.  _

_ “Maybe I should bring attention to it on my Insta, so people are aware that tragedies like that happen. It’s not every day your sister jumps off the roof, you know? At least people can come up to her and offer their condolences-” _

_ “No, don’t do that,” Atsumu blurts out in a panic. “Don’t do that to her,” he practically begs. _

**_Please don’t let her go through that kind of torture again. She worked too hard to leave that behind in high school._ **

_ Tomi smiles again. “I think it’s a kind gesture to do but...I guess I could hold off on doing it for today.” _

_ Tomi presses a slimy kiss to his cheek. _

_ “Maybe I’ll make it next time.” _

_ His stomach drops. _

It does not matter what Atsumu does - whether he begs on his knees or prays to any deity listening to free him from this pain, he can’t break this cycle no matter how hard he tries.

He says he wants to leave, and Tomi adds another chain around his neck, to weigh him down and sink to her level with lies and deceit hidden behind rose-tinted glasses. It’s suffocating and he struggles to get air into his lungs with every perfectly crafted story about him she shows to her followers. 

The caring boyfriend, but also the awful cheater.

The attentive listener, but also the man that ignores her too much if he doesn’t reply immediately to her messages.

The cuddly bear, but also the demon who raises his voice.

And all the while Tomi maintains this image of perfection, this ‘butter wouldn’t melt’ persona in each and every one of her frivolous tales that, had Atsumu not been the one to witness her inner evil first-hand, he almost would have been fooled by the stories himself.

She works so hard to create this perfect person, as if the gods themselves had worked meticulously to create this beautiful specimen of a human being to gift to the world, so that others may look on in envy and hope,  _ wish,  _ that they too could become just as perfect as Tomi.

What scares him most of all is how many similarities he can see in Tomi when compared to what he used to be in high school.

(Like a cracked mirror, she is a reflection of what he used to be. 

The mirror may be broken and distorted, but it is a reflection nonetheless, and is reflected back at him in a million different pieces.

He hates the image he sees with his whole heart.)

His younger self and Tomi are creatures built of arrogance and pride. And it’s so pitiful, to see what could have been such a lovely thing turned into a monster in search of worthiness and validation, when there is so much more to life.

Both were obsessed with their pristine image, with the petty and meaningless opinions of strangers, working hard to disguise the pain underneath and turn it into money and fame, to the point where it consumed them and turned them into the ugliest of monsters, grovelling at the feet of others instead of the other way around like they had intended.

The sad reality, though, is that at least Atsumu is working to better himself, to focus on himself and his own skills and worth as opposed to waiting for someone to gush about how jealous of him they were so he can feel good about himself. 

Tomi is still stuck in that terrible phase, and it doesn’t look like she’s getting out any time soon.

Maybe, a small part of him deep down, stays with her out of a stupid duty to try and save another lost soul before she becomes another face in a sea of monsters lurking in the shadows.

(That he could save her, just like you had saved him in your own way.)

But he knows it’s a lost cause, and he’s tired of trying to pick up the pieces of a life that doesn’t matter to him.

(He struggles with doing that for his own life, let alone Tomi’s.)

So he suffers, mostly in silence, and he contemplates how he’s going to crawl his way out of this hell hole he’s caught in.

\---

Atsumu is partially grateful for the trip back to Hyogo with his brother.

Aside from the obvious reasons he’s glad to be back home (seeing family and friends again after so long apart is very much needed in his life right now), he’s just happy he can spend time away from Tomi and her soul sucking presence.

It comes at the cost of not being able to see you, or Kuroo and Bokuto either, but he’s using his time away to breathe, to stop and start again.

(Tomi has not stopped blowing up his phone since the moment his brother drove away from his apartment, and he damn near threw the device out the window. But he keeps it, because he wants to talk to you, to know how your day is going, any miniscule detail to warm his heart.

He sends Tomi a simple message about how he’ll be really busy for the next two weeks and won’t have time to talk, mutes her conversation, and doesn’t reply back to any of the messages sent to him.)

It kind of feels like he’s been transported to a different world now. Hyogo is the same;  from the grass to the trees, from the people and their accents, from the crisp air he breathes in with tired lungs, it feels like nothing has changed in his year away from home.

It’s only been a year, and yet it’s been as exhausting as a decade.

Being surrounded by his old teammates again is almost enough to forget about the shit show of his life. All he needs to have on his mind is jokes, drinks, and good vibes all around.

But then the night comes as it always does, and his troubles come back to bite him in the ass and rob him of any peaceful sleep he had hoped to find in his old bed.

He had hoped to keep quiet about his tragic life for the entirety of the two weeks he was with friends, but Kita being Kita, with his blunt words and calculated questions, had unintentionally blabbed about the Tomi situation after three drinks in his system. And of course Suna had to follow up with more information, and Osamu was the icing on the cake when he shared the pictures and screenshots of her awful messages from Tomi that Atsumu had shown him.

Embarrassment painted his cheeks a roaring red. But the group offered no judgement toward him at all, and the relief he felt nearly turned his knees to jelly. He knows he shouldn’t feel embarrassed but he always felt like he should be top dog, the guy who doesn’t give a fuck, not someone who allows himself to be belittled and abused by a woman who calls herself his ‘girlfriend’. 

That night at the bar, telling everyone the story of how they came to be a couple, was a long one.

The group were rightfully appalled by her behaviour, and offered all their words of advice that Atsumu soaked up like a sponge but knew would be no good in the long run. People like Tomi are like rashes - persistent, annoying, and bad for you. Asking her to leave him alone isn’t working.

Ojiro had patted him on the back, and told him that the team were there for him whenever he needed it. And as he stared at the kind, open faces of his old teammates, of his family away from family, he can’t help but wish he had never grown up and left Hyogo, left the comfort of his hometown or the warmth of his bed sheets with you wrapped up in his long arms.

He thinks of this as he sits in the tiny bathroom of his childhood home a few days after arriving in Hyogo, butt firmly planted on a stool and a large and old towel wrapped around his shoulders. Osamu stands behind him, and he can hear him mixing up the blonde hair dye solution in a little plastic tub by the sink as Atsumu awaits the sticky colouring to be spread on his hair.

The summer air in Hyogo this evening is calm, their bellies are full from their mothers home cooked dinner, their cheeks hurt from smiling and laughing with their father, and they’ve developed one too many bruises from play wrestling with Yuta in the backyard. All should be peaceful. All should be tranquil.

But his thoughts are dark and gloomy and ladened with worry and stress.

(They gnaw away at the happy memories left in his mind, like little insects infecting his mind. He’s so tired of it.)

“Can’t believe ya still rope me into dyeing your hair for ya,” his brother complains, and Atsumu feels the cool and wet dye spread over the crown of his head, Osamu’s fingers kneading through his scalp noisily as the plastic gloves he wears crinkle with each movement. Atsumu snorts, keeps his eyes on his phone as he lazily scrolls through Twitter.

“Bout the only thing yer decent at, lil bro,” he drawls. It earns him a smack to the back of his head, and he gives an indignant squawk in response.

“We’re twins,  _ dumbass.  _ Doesn’t matter who’s older, _ ”  _ he tugs a few odd strands of hair roughly, and Atsumu is about ready to elbow him in the groin. He’s in the prime position for it. “And is that a compliment I hear?”

“Not that ya deserve it, you ashy haired prick.”

Osamu pulls Atsumu’s head back roughly, and glares down at him, the light of the bathroom silhouetting him and making him look like some sort of weird, upside-down angel. 

“Keep insultin’ me,” he warns, eyes narrowed. “See where it gets ya.”

Atsumu forcefully moves his head forward again, a deep scowl creasing the lines on his forehead.

“God, yer annoyin’” Atsumu groans, scrolling through his social media once more.

“Likewise.”

Tomi abruptly pops up on his social media feed. Another post not so subtly complaining about him - this time about his ignorance and inability to consider  _ her  _ feelings when he’s away on a trip. Somebody save him, this woman was too fucking annoying for him to be dealing with.

He scrolls past it nearly as quickly as he saw it, but not fast enough that it would escape Osamu’s eyes from where he peeked over his brother’s shoulder. He stays silent for a moment as he applies the hair dye, until he decides to break it.

“What are ya gonna do ‘bout her?”

“‘Bout who?” Atsumu likes to pretend he doesn’t know who Tomi is, these days. Makes life a little easier to deal with that way.

“Don’t play dumb, Tsumu,” he tuts. Atsumu gets equally as annoyed.

“Well what am I supposed to do, Samu? She blackmails me with new shit nearly every day. At this point I can only applaud her efforts at draggin’ me down to hell with her.”

“Well yer gonna have to do  _ somethin’.  _ I don’t wanna watch ya get stuck with a girl like that for the rest of yer life. Ya never even liked her to begin with,” Osamu shakes his head. “You could take it to the police?”

“And what’re they gonna do? Tell me to grow a pair of balls?” Atsumu’s chest deflates with a weary sigh. 

“Why did ya let it go on for this long,” Osamu sighs too, as equally fed up as his twin. Atsumu is quiet for a long time.

“I thought it was gonna be a one night stand. Like the rest,” he starts. He feels his stomach churn. “She was gettin’ really upset when I said I wouldn’t go on a date with her, ‘n wouldn’t take no for an answer so I thought one date couldn’t hurt, right?”

His hand rubs roughly at his eyes.

“But then she kept askin’, got more aggressive every time she did. Was sayin’ shit like how she was gonna cry and I was gonna have my name dragged through the dirt ‘cause of it, and I couldn’t-”

_ (I couldn’t make another person cry because of me, whether I care about them or not.  _

_ I have to be a better person.) _

He tries to swallow the lump caught in his throat, but can’t seem to push it down.

“I lost control and I don’t know how to get it back.”

He knows he sounds pathetic, so hollow and broken. But he’s with his brother, and knows that Osamu will withhold the jokes until later and will actually be there for him at his weakest. His leg bounces restlessly on the tiled floor as he tries to get a hold of his emotions.

At that moment, Atsumu’s phone chimes, and both pairs of eyes flit to the screen. It’s a message from you, a picture of you petting the cat that has become your new favourite neighbour lighting up his screen. A simple flash of your name is enough to make his heart relax. His thumb subconsciously traces over your face, and Osamu can see his soft smile in the reflection in the mirror as he stares reverently at the picture. Osamu stills, hands resting on his brother's head for a moment.

“Do you love her?” Osamu asks. His voice is low and faraway, like a whisper in the desert. Yet Atsumu scoffs.

“Thought it was pretty clear how I feel ‘bout Tomi, ya dunce-”

“Don’t be stupid, Tsumu.” Atsumu freezes underneath his brother’s hands, underneath his brother’s stare that he can feel burning holes into his skull. 

And when Osamu says your name, loud and as clear as the Japanese summer sky, Atsumu’s heart drops to the floor.

“Do you love her?” Osamu repeats. The blonde shifts on the stool, hands clammy and moving about in search of a place to land on his lap while he thinks of an excuse. But when he peeks over his shoulder, and is pinned by the serious look Osamu is wearing, Atsumu knows there is no use in lying to his twin. There never was to begin with.

“How didja know?” he asks quietly instead. Osamu gives him one of his signature deadpan looks.

“I’m not as dumb as you, Tsumu,” he carefully crosses his arms and leans against the counter, mindful of the gloves covered in dye on his hands. Atsumu ignores the insult in favour of listening to his brother. “I’ve known about it for a long time.”

Atsumu is almost afraid to ask, yet he does so regardless with a nervous laugh. “Since when?”

“After she left school,” he answers.  _ Oh shit.  _ “Heard you cryin’ a lot.”

_ Shit, that’s embarrassing.  _

Atsumu can feel the heat growing on his cheeks.

“I’m not gonna judge ya. I’ll save that for later.” Atsumu’s eyes narrow. “But I’m gonna ask ya again: Do you love her?”

Atsumu takes a deep breath in, and tucks his shaking hands underneath the towel wrapped around him. His ribs feel like they’re about to crack from the force of his heart pounding in his chest. He exhales slowly, and nods. Osamu face shifts, a look of something Atsumu can’t quite discern, before its usual flat look returns. The blonde continues.

“I do. I love her. I...I love her so fuckin’ much.”

His voice cracks, but he’s long past feeling embarrassed now. 

“I’ve loved her for so long but I didn’t realise it until too late. And I fucked up ‘n drove her away from me but now she’s back and I just want to be with her, I just-”

He clears his throat roughly, hoarse with growing emotion. Osamu stares at his twin as he tries to gather himself, gather his thoughts. He moves to stand behind him once more, and begins putting the hair dye back in, as if nothing had happened.

“Well then you know what to do.” He flicks the back of Atsumu’s ear teasingly. “You have to leave that bitch, and get with the  _ right  _ girl this time.”

The picture of you glows on the screen of his phone once more. Atsumu stares at it longingly, wishing you were here, sitting in the bathroom with the twins, eating dinner with his family, sleeping in his bed beside him, here where you  _ should  _ be.

Osamu speaks up again. His voice is sullen, telling of a hidden sorrow that Atsumu figures he’ll never figure out, not unless Osamu wants him to know. And that’s ok. He’ll wait to hear it. 

“All I’m gonna say is you need to sort yer life out  _ now.  _ Neither of ya can wait forever to be with each other. You need to tell her you love her before it’s too late. Don’t be stupid, Tsumu.”

The grey haired brother sighs, and backs away, throwing the gloves into the bin. He looks back at Atsumu only once before leaving, and when he does, his eyes shine strangely, with the slightest red tinge to them. 

Something Atsumu has seen many times before on himself, but never his brother.

“Trust me,” he says simply, and leaves Atsumu sitting alone in the bathroom with his hair feeling sticky and his words echoing through his mind.

It feels as though a weight has been lifted off his shoulders by the hands of his twin. He’s suddenly struck with the realisation that without his brother, without the ability to be open and honest with him throughout his life, Atsumu isn’t sure he would have lasted as long in life as he did. 

For all the teasing and arguments throughout the years, Osamu was always the earth to the tornado that was Astumu - immovable, strong, everlasting. 

He’s eternally grateful that the world gave him a brother like Osamu.

(Osamu would later blame the strong scent of the hair dye as the reason why his eyes were watery, and offers no further elaboration on the matter.

Atsumu doesn’t say any more.)

\---

Just like a grand play, when the music rises and the actors play their parts perfectly and the story has reached a turning point of no return, the climax to Atsumu’s misery comes on the dreariest of evenings, when the sky is grey and the world has slowed down and Atsumu is tired of feeling like he’s drowning.

(This is the moment when Atsumu  _ finally  _ screams.)

It's raining. And the rain hasn't stopped for a whole three days.

He’s paying more attention to the fat droplets of water that fall from the summer storms slide along the glass of the window than to whatever Tomi has decided to talk about this evening. Something about a reality TV show she applied for. He really doesn’t fucking care. He just wants to get out of her apartment as soon as he can, but she’s forcing him to watch a movie with her. Not that either of them are watching it, clearly.

He’s been back in Tokyo for a few days now, and has spent that time in deep thought, sussing out his plans and what he’s going to do now after the talk he had with Osamu. His mind has not stopped working, planning out every detail to a tee, but all that planning could never prepare him for tonight.

As is his daily routine, Atsumu repeats those same words to her that are about as useful as asking a dog to explain the pythagorean theorem.

“So they asked me what would make me a good candidate for the show, and  _ obviously  _ my modelling experience intere-”

“I wanna break up.”

He says it with as much energy as he can muster, which is very little, but he says it regardless. If he speaks it into existence enough, maybe the world will finally give him a fucking break and grant him his wish. He doesn’t even look at her as he says it. Instead he keeps his gaze on the clear rainwater, wishing he was as free as the droplets that fall to the ground.

Tomi stalls, and then of course, she  _ laughs.  _

“Funny, Atsu. You know, that joke is getting  _ kind of  _ old now.”

He feels that thread inside of him, deep inside his mind, that little frail rope of sanity, begin to pull. He can almost visualise it - a thin and frayed thread stretched to its limit, yet still clinging on for dear life.

“That ain’t my fuckin’ name,” he snaps. He finally directs his attention to Tomi, who looks very unimpressed with the tone of his voice. The fuzzy pink cushion beside him on her couch is held in his grasp like a stress ball.

“Last time I checked, that  _ was  _ your name. And you know how I feel when you bring this up. I’m tired. We are not talking about this toni-”

“Yes we  _ are.  _ I don’t like you. I don’t  _ love  _ you. Can’t stand the fuckin’ sight of ya at this point. I’m done with you.”

He rises from the couch, ready to make his way home so he can stuff his face silly with food and wallow in self pity, a regular pastime of his nowadays. A deathly tight grip on his wrist stops him in his tracks, and he looks down to see Tomi with a face like thunder, all anger and spite.

“No you  _ aren’t.  _ Don’t walk away from me like that. You’re acting so selfishly, sit down and stop being this way.

_ “Excuse me?”  _ He can’t believe she’s trying this shit again. Every time he leaves, she tries to act like he’s the bad guy.

“I hate when you start this. It’s very annoying.”

_ “I’m the annoyin’ one?”  _ he asks incredulously.

She scoffs, a sound so demeaning and condescending, he has to resist the urge to destroy one of her stupid lip shaped porcelain statues. “Yes. This breaking up thing is getting tired. It stopped being funny a long time ago.”

“It ain’t meant to be funny. I’m bein’ serious. I don’t wanna fuckin’ be with a psycho like  _ you.” _

Her eyes narrow. “You’d be stupid to leave someone like me.” She flips her hair over her shoulder, just another tic of hers, of when she’s feeling particularly high and mighty.

“Well then I’ll proudly tattoo ‘dumbass’ across my forehead if it means I’ll never have to see you again.”

His thread of sanity continues to stretch and stretch and stretch, and Tomi is holding both sides with a vicious smile on her pink lips, toying with him like a cruel child. 

He shakes his head, and laughs in disbelief. 

“Don’t even know why I’ve wasted so much time with ya. I’m done tryin’ to be nice and sparin’ yer feelings. Yer a crazy bitch, and you need help. I’ve had  _ enough. _ ”

He turns his back on her, grabbing his coat and rushing to the door to put on his shoes. In his haste to tie his laces, he doesn’t notice Tomi rushing up and grabbing his shoulders, pulling him back roughly until he’s thrown to the ground. His chocolate eyes blink dumbly at the eggshell coloured ceiling, at the flashing lights from the TV that dance with the shadows, and at the furious face of Tomi that looms over him like death itself.

“Who do you think you are, doing this to me?!” she screams, and it’s enough to knock Atsumu out of his stupor. He rushes to stand, long legs moving to put distance between himself and Tomi. “Why couldn’t you just  _ love me like everyone else does?” _

“The hell are ya talkin’-”

“We were supposed to be the best couple! The popular volleyball player and the model.” Her face is full of frustration, and the longer he stares, the angrier he feels, and that rope starts to tear, piece by piece. What the  _ hell  _ is her problem?

Her frustration morphs into an expression of pure vitriol.

“You were supposed to love  _ me.  _ But you just couldn’t stop staring at that miserable bitch, could you?”

His brows furrow. His jaw clenches. His fingers curl into fists. And that little fucking thread is on it’s last leg.

“What did you just say?” he growls. She ignores the harshness of his voice, and continues on her downward spiral of hatred and bitterness.

“What is it about her, huh? Why are you so hung up on this complete  _ nobody?” _

For a fleeting moment, Atsumu almost laughs, because he’s pretty sure he’s heard a conversation like this before. An argument between a snake and the charmer, from a time that seems like so long ago now. 

Tomi runs her hands through her long red hair. “Tell me, Atsumu! It certainly isn’t because she’s the prettiest girl in the world.” 

Her laugh is shrill and mocking. It cuts through his brain like a knife. “Is it because you feel bad for her? You like playing the role of the good guy and helping the sad girl with the dead sister and the fucked up family? Maybe I should make a post on my Insta about you two!”

Tomi puts her hands to her face and pretends to cry, like a small child would. His body vibrates in anger. “Oh, boo hoo. Lil Miss Loner was bullied in school and caught the eye of the star player. How fucking poetic. Though by the looks of her sister’s old social media accounts, it seems like Miss Loner should have been the one who said bye-bye.”

Tomi has effectively just pulled his thread of sanity apart. As well as hit it with a bat, run over it with a truck, burned it and buried it. 

(He can almost hear the echo of the snap in his mind, of rope splitting and falling asunder. It’s freeing, in a way, to finally not have to hold back for the sake of others, to allow himself to be as brash and hot headed as he was in high school. 

To finally not have everything held together by that silly little thread.)

_ “Watch yer fuckin’ mouth,”  _ he says low and darkly. It’s enough to give Tomi pause. She looks at him, stunned. “You can say what ya want ‘bout me, but don’t  _ ever  _ say anything about her with that shit mouth of yours again. Do you hear me?”

Her mouth opens and closes like a fish. “D-Don’t talk to me like-”

“I don’t want you snoopin’ around in her life. That ain’t yer fuckin’ business. Worry about yerself and yer own sad lil life, but don’t ever threaten her again or tell anyone anything about her. It doesn’t concern you.”

He walks up to her, and stares her down with a sneer.

“You are a pathetic person, and I can’t believe I felt bad for ya and stayed. Big mistake on my part.” Her big round eyes blink in shock. “All of us have to grow up at some point, Tomi. You’ll get nowhere in life if you keep lyin’ to yerself ‘bout who you should be, especially with a fuckin’ attitude like that. Yer gonna realise one day that you just can’t please ‘em all.”

(Atsumu knows that better than  _ anyone.  _

If only he could have gotten this advice when he was younger.

Maybe he wouldn’t be standing here, saying it to someone else.)

He heads to the front door once more, footsteps heavy and determined to leave.  _ Third time’s a charm.  _

“I never want to see you again. Leave me the fuck alone. ”

He’s successful in actually touching the doorknob, before her voice stops him again. He’s positively  _ seething.  _ He just wants to go home.

“I’ll tell everyone about how you treat me.”

His face scrunches up in annoyance. “What the hell are ya goin’ on about now?”

She stalks up to him like a predator eyeing the prey caught in a trap. The hair on his nape rises and stands in defense, ready for the attack. There is a manic look in her eye, a dangerous one. “I said; I’ll tell everyone about how you treat me. How you call me names, how you cheat on me. How you’ve raised a fist to me.”

Atsumu can say with certainty that he is thoroughly stunned, and near rendered speechless and her outrageous words. 

“I didn’t do anythin’ to you! That’s all a _lie!_ I never once raised a fuckin' fist at you!”

She shrugs, carefree and unwilling to think about the weight of her words. About the threat she poses. He feels a dead weight settle in the pit of his gut, and his ears ring.

“It’s my word against yours.”

Atsumu never thought he’d see the day he’d be stuck in a situation like this, where he’s been manipulated so easily like a puppet on strings, like he’s nothing more than an itch to scratch on her journey to success. He feels like he’s standing on quicksand, sinking further and further into doom crafted by the sweetest looking angel. 

“...y-yer an actual psychopath,” he stutters. A cold sweat breaks out over his body. His hands are clammy, his feet twitch, and his mind drowns in worry.

“Your career will be over before it’s even started,” her words are sharp and calculated. He gulps. “I won’t say a thing if you stay. I’ll keep quiet if you stop acting stupid and stay with me, ok?”

She smiles at him, eyes as wide as her smile. He thinks it looks like the grin of a demon. When he doesn’t move, her smile falls as fast as it came.

“Stop playing with me, Atsumu. You have to think of your future. You care about what others think of you, right?”

He does.

Doesn’t he?

(Of everything he could be thinking about right now - his family, his friends, his volleyball career on the line, his reputation tarnished, his wretched future where he’s doomed to stay with a wicked demon like Tomi for the rest life - he can only think of one thing, and one thing only:

You.

He thinks about the way you smile when you get a new villager you wanted in Animal Crossing.

He thinks about the warmth of your arm as it presses against his when you sit next to him in the cafeteria.

He thinks about the dip in your voice when you talk with a pout, which inevitably gets you a free chocolate bar from him because he can’t resist it.

He thinks about the sadness in your eyes when you look at your lilies, but dims when you see him.

He thinks about the way you laugh, the way you cry, the way you roll your eyes at a particularly bad joke of his.

He even thinks about the stupid picture of the smiley face you drew in ketchup on your food the other day, and how it is so incredibly childish and sweet and  _ you  _ and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

And he thinks about the way you would hold him close last summer, like he was the only thing you cared about, and he would hold you back just as tight, because you  _ were  _ the only thing he cared about and he was too blind to see it properly at the time.)

And like the flick of a switch, the joining of a puzzle piece, the slide of a book onto a shelf, everything just comes together, falls into place, and makes sense.

He realises now that he doesn’t care what others think about him, not anymore, not when he has you.

There’s a lot more important things in life to think about than the opinions of others.

It’s a lesson learned late, but learned nonetheless.

“No,” he says, with a strange sense of calm washing over him. There is that lingering dread deep within him at the power Tomi holds, to have his whole life crumble like building blocks with a few choice words. He’s seen it done before, he’s read the nasty comments on his social media.

But right now, all he wants to do is see you, and tell you,  _ finally, _ exactly how he feels about you.

“No?” she says, bewildered. For once in his life, his feet take control over his mind, and make the decision to move, to leave this horrible apartment with its cliched photo frames and inspirational quotes. Her brows raise as he inches his way back to the front door.

“No,” he repeats. He laughs lightly. “I don’t care. We’re finished. I’m movin’ on with my life. Have a nice life, Tomi.”

He swings the door wide open as she rushes at him in a panic, but he’s already sprinting down the halls and out of her apartment complex, her shrill cries fading the further he gets.

His feet blindly carry him in the direction of your apartment, and they move at a speed that nearly surprises him. He realises he must look like a mad man, dashing through the heavy storm, those same fat droplets beating down on his back as runs, but not caring about how you look to people is nice. It’s freeing, and it allows him to fill his mind with thoughts of everything he loves about you, of everything he’s going to say to you. His throat gets tight with emotion.

By the time he reaches your door, he doesn’t even realise he’s been crying until a solid minute into beating his fist against the wood.

His heart beats in time with the erratic thudding of his fist, and his chest heaves up and down in an attempt to get oxygen into his lungs, but he ignores it. The only that matters to him right now is-

You open the door, looking very confused and shocked to see him, yet he thinks it’s the most stunning thing he’s seen in a long time.

And when you whisper his name so gently, the tears that have been falling silently turn into choked sobs as the weight of everything - the past, the present and the future, crashes over him. 

And when you hold him, when you cradle his face close to your heart, he  _ knows  _ this is where he was always meant to belong from the very beginning. He was foolish for taking so long to find his home.

“I can’t do this,” he cries pitifully, because his heart really can’t take any more abuse. His forehead touches yours, and he allows himself to get dragged into the depths of your orbs. “I-I can’t. I’m done with fuckin’ up my life.”

He licks his lips nervously, as he prepares to say those three words that have haunted him since the very day he laid eyes on you in school. He didn’t know it then, of course he didn’t, but he knows now, and that’s all that matters. Maybe Bokuto was right. Maybe fate really does work in strange ways, and the universe really wanted you to be together. 

His entire form trembles, but he’s never been so sure of the next words to leave his lips, has never said truer words in his entire existence. 

Of all the things MIya Atsumu might and might not know, he knows this with absolute certainty - as certain as the rain falling from the heavens, as the warmth of your body in his arms,  as this damaged soul of his that runs to you so willingly:

“I love you.”

He does. He really fucking does.

(And he will  _ never  _ love another the way he loves you.)

Throwing all caution to the wind, he pulls you close, presses his lips to yours, lips that he’s felt in his dreams a million times since they last touched, and he gives all his love to you without regret.

And when your lips press back against his, he feels the cracks in his heart seal.

(He’s alive again.)

\---

The destination between your front door and your bed must not exist, because in the blink of an eye Atsumu suddenly feels the backs of his knees hit the side of your bed as you usher him closer to both your desired destinations, lips only leaving for gasps for air and hands rushing over your bodies, desperate to tear off the clothes that stand between you.

With his wet t-shirt and shoes thrown somewhere he won’t know until the morning, he bends his knees and plops down onto your bed, hands already pushing your shirt upwards and planting kisses all over the skin he missed so dearly. His fingers, deft and nimble and so attuned to your silken skin, trail over your legs with care, fingers slipping into the waistband of your pants, but he stills.

He looks upwards, to your face heady with lust and love and his chest grows tight. And before he can even get a word out, you’re already nodding your head yes, your hands already holding his face so gently, so purely, and it feels like before, like nothing has changed. With trembling fingers and a beating heart, he begins to peel away your pants and underwear together, eager to feel and see as much as possible, his lips peppering kisses over every inch of skin uncovered. 

You have since discarded your top and thrown it behind you, lost to the bedroom floor, standing before him as naked as the day you entered the world, and Atsumu’s heart is ready to fly out of his chest.

(Like a peasant at the foot of a shrine, he worships you, treasures you, and is determined to never let you leave his side from this day forth.

He has done his waiting, he has done his praying.)

His eyes commit every inch of your skin to memory, and from top to bottom he stares in awe. It’s just like how he remembered, but also...different somehow. You look like you’ve grown more comfortable with yourself, learned to own your skin and be proud of who you are, and in turn he is proud of you for shedding the past as you’ve always preached. 

(For a moment his jealousy flares when he thinks of Daishou and his wicked, cheating hands having their way with your body and desecrating it like a thief stealing jewels from a temple, but he squashes it down. He would rather  _ not  _ think about that scrub at a time like this.

But he does allow a moment to swell his ego, knowing he’s been the better man in bed.)

You lean down to his level and kiss him again, wrapping your arms around his shoulders while his own hands travel across your body, not staying one place for long, remembering the paths he knew from so long ago and getting lost in your touch.

A gasp of surprise leaves his mouth when you move to sit on his lap, straddling his waist, running your fingers through his wet tresses. He groans at the scratches you give towards his nape, and smirks when you blush in response. Some things never change.

He allows you to push him back on the bed with ease, the sheets around him smelling so much like you that he feels complete comfort. Atsumu helps you to pull his pants down and kicks them off his legs until he is as bare as you now, your other half and your equal, and he’s about to get down to business when he remembers something that makes him groan, and not in pleasure.

“Is something wrong?” you ask, concerned at the shift in mood. He leans his head back and stares at your ceiling in frustration. 

“I don’t have a condom,” he mumbles. He’s mapping out a route to the nearest drug store and wondering how fast it would take him to sprint there but you stop him with a kiss to his plush lips.

With your lips still brushing against his, you whisper, “it’s ok. I’m on birth control.”

All thought dies in his brain and Atsumu returns to default settings.

_ Holy shit we’ve never done this before I mean we always used a condom- _

_ She wants to do it raw? That’s so hot fuck I’m freaking the fuck out calm down dude- _

_ But what if I get her pregnant? I can’t afford a baby! But I don’t want to leave her alone either- _

“Tsumu? Tsumu….Atsumu!”

He jumps a little when you raise your voice, staring at him with a raised brow. He gulps, the grip on your waist growing tighter.

“Are you ok?” you ask. Your thumbs rub soothing circles on his cheeks. “We...we can stop if you want. If you’re not comfortable with that-”

“No! God no, please don’t stop!” His face heats up with embarrassment when you giggle at his begging. “I’m just...what if I get ya pregnant?”

Your giggles turn to full blown laughter, and he feels it spread over his body until he’s laughing too, and he loves how easy it is to be with you, to let loose and be silly and just have  _ fun. _

“Birth control is a lot stronger than you think, Tsumu,” you shake your headly fondly. “I won’t get pregnant.”

“A-Are ya sure? I mean I’m not really sure how it works but if my swimmers meet yer egg then-”

“Tsumu it’ll be  _ fine!  _ I’ve waited for you for too long, and I don’t wanna have to wait another ten minutes longer while you run around looking for a condom when I already have another form of protection, dummy. I just want  _ you,  _ and I’m not gonna let go of you any time soon.”

You press a hard kiss to his bottom lip that is wide open with awe, and he rushes to reciprocate it. You pull back with a flush face and the most beautiful smile.

“You trust me, don’t you?”

His mouth answers before his mind can even think of the words.

“With my life.”

(With his life, his soul, his heart, and whatever else he can offer you.)

Your face, if possible, grows even softer, and he meets you halfway when you kiss him again, tugging you close to his frame and edging his way up to rest his head on your pillows while you make yourself comfortable on his hips. He can feel your sex press against his groin and he stifles a growl at the feeling.

The raindrops pelting against your window reflect strangely on your skin. He watches idly as a shadow of a raindrop falls down your chest, over a pert nipple and down further still, dropping all the way down in an almost zigzag pattern to the outside your thigh, and he brings his hand up to follow the exact path of the droplet. 

He starts at your neck, a gentle caress of his palm on the skin that connects your shoulder to your neck, allowing his fingers to trail downwards and over your breasts, savouring the gentle gasp you give him when his fingers rub and pinch your nipple teasingly. His other hand takes hold of the other, and he fondles them just the way he remembers you liking, biting his lip when you moan for him, a sound he missed so dearly on his lonely nights.

His hands finish the path of the droplet, dragging them over your tummy to make you laugh. And then he does his favourite thing - he traces lines and shapes of love and care into your flesh like you’ve done to him so many times, to make you feel safe, loved, and he’d do this for an eternity and then some if it meant he could see the soft look you’re giving him every single day.

He finally reaches the end, and holds on tight to the fleshy parts of your thighs, hiking you up further so he can kiss you hard. His tongue invades your mouth, and while driving you dizzy with the force of his kisses his dominant hand wanders away from your thigh and to your core. He grins against your mouth when he feels the slick gathered there and your hips buck in surprise, a needy whine escaping the confines of your chest.

He goes straight for your clit, to have you moan and whine so deliciously above him, and when he slips a finger into your wet heat he grows delirious at the rapturous look on your visage.

“Yer so fuckin’ beautiful,” he groans, and you sigh airily when he inserts another finger, pumping in and out at a steady pace.

“A-Atsumu...please,” you whimper into his neck. He smirks.

“‘Please’ what, princess?” He increases the pace of his hand, flicking his wrist to push his fingers in deeper. You cry out, scratching your nails on his chest and he delights in the feeling, thumb shifting to rub your clit steadily.

You stutter out a breath, moaning deeply into his ear. He feels like he’s getting drunk off of all the different sensations shared between you both; the delicious sounds you make for him when he rubs his thumb hard on your bud, the feeling of your hot, drenched pussy clenching around his fingers, the weight of your body pressed on top of his, your lips skimming the soft skin of his neck and sucking lightly at the rapid pulse in his neck. It makes his head dizzy and thoughts slow, while his heart does the opposite and speeds up faster than he thought possible, and he loves it, he loves  _ you. _

(So utterly intoxicated by everything that is you, and he never wants to come down from this high.)

“I…” you whine softly beside him, hips grinding onto his fingers wantonly. It makes him chuckle with a thick voice, raspy and heavy with lust. “I need you to fuck me, Tsumu.”

His fingers stop, and he looks to your face. You’re biting your lip, the flesh being coloured red from pressure, and your eyes plead with him to make a move and finally fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk. To finally join you again after so long apart. You don’t have to ask him twice.

His fingers leave your core with a squelch that leaves your face burning. He begins to shift you beneath him, hands gripping onto your hips and ready to flip you, but you stop him with a palm pressed to his hard chest, pressed to his rapidly beating heart. You lift your hips and rub your soaked pussy along his length, and it rips a deep groan from the confines of his chest, the hands on your hips growing tighter with their hold on you.

You continue to drive him mad for a moment, teasing him so sweetly and making him crave so desperately the feeling of being inside of you, and just when he’s reached his breaking point you silence any oncoming complaints about to spill from his damn mouth with hot kiss, one that leaves him gasping for air when you take hold of his dick and line it up with your entrance, slowly sliding down.

He pulls away with a cut off gasp when his tip is in, and you pause to prepare for the oncoming stretch. He forces down feelings of impatience and waits for you to make the first move, watching your face with burning eyes as it contorts in pleasure when you take more of him in. When your hips are flush to his, he lets out a breath he hadn’t even realised he was holding, all stuttery and swift and full of emotion as you sit on top and adjust to the stretch.

He can feel your inner walls clench around his stiff length, and his face flushes with heat at the sensation. Your hips lift ever so slightly, and then fall, meeting his hips once more, and you repeat this over and over again, lifting them higher each time until you’ve set a steady pace and bounce up and down on his cock with beautiful whimpers escaping your chest. His large hands grab hold of the flesh on your ass, kneading and squeezing as he sees fit, moaning alongside you at every clench you make.

“There’s a good girl,” he delivers a light smack to your ass cheek, and you arch your back in surprise. The rain still reflects on your skin like beautiful dark stars, and he is so bewitched by the way you look, falling in love all over again and again and again. “Yer takin’ my cock so well. I betcha missed it, huh?”

You squeeze hard around him with a loud moan at his words, and his breath catches in his chest. Fuck, you were so perfect in every single way it scares him, but he’s done with waiting for you. He has you, and he hopes it’s for life.

“I-I did, I-” you put your hands on his chest for stability. “I missed you so much.”

You cry out as a hand sneaks around to your clit again, rubbing rough circles and knocking all sense out of your brain. He loves when you’re on top, stares reverently at the sight of you hovering over him but he craves more, he craves the feeling of you so close to him that he hopes he forgets where he starts and where you end.

Atsumu sits up fast and wraps his arms around your form to pull you chest to chest. His fingers curl into your tresses and he thrusts up into you, making you cry out and throw your head back, exposing your neck for him to bite and suck on and mark you for the world to see. 

_ "Fuck,  _ I missed this- I missed ya too."

He increases the force of his thrusts and pounds hard and fast into your tight cunt. You whisper praises breathlessly to his lips and he inhales them like the first gasp of oxygen after being held underwater. You press your forehead to his as you tug on his blonde locks, and he feels that sweet tightening in his gut begin to form, holding you with a death grip and allowing himself to get lost in your touch.

"God," he whispers, voice wobbly because of the force of his oncoming orgasm and with the emotion overflowing from his body. "I love ya so fuckin' much-"

You somehow clench even tighter around him and he's so close to the edge, so ready to jump off the deep end and into euphoria when you press perfect kisses to his lips as he rubs faster on your clit.

And then you say:

"I love you."

And he realises then, that it's the first time he has ever heard you say those three words he has longed to hear for so long, that he was too busy whisking you away from your front door with rushed kisses and clothes flying everywhere to realise you had not said it back to him.

But now you have, with a breathless and emotional voice, and with eyes as endlessly warm as the summer in which he fell in love with you. So full of adoration and kindness and  _ love  _ and his chest grows so tight and he feels like he can't breathe and his whole body thrums with life and-

It's what pushes him over that beautiful, blissful edge.

His fingers fumble to rub harder and faster on your clit as he reaches his orgasm, feeling lightheaded at the sensation of his cum gushing into your hole with no barriers between you. 

And when you reach your end too at the same time, it’s with a loud cry of his name followed by _I love you I love you I love you_ while you cradle his face to your chest, and he’s almost positive he’s either going to come again at the sound or get a heart attack from how fast his heart is thundering beneath his ribcage. 

(He loves you.

You love him.

And he finally feels that stupid and troublesome mask he wore throughout his life form the final crack and fall from his face.)

\---

The rain continues to beat down on your windows even once you’re both curled up in bed, sticky with sweat, exhausted from everything that has happened to you both, but in sheer bliss and happiness with full hearts as he holds your body close, your head resting in the crook of his neck and arms wrapped tight and strong around his waist.

And if he closes his eyes and let some of his other senses take control; the feeling of your hair as he runs his fingers through it, the smell of sex heavy and lingering in the air, the taste of your lips imprinted on his like a mark of love, and the sound of the raindrops tapping against the glass of your windows, he’s reminded of that first night you both gave yourselves to each other, that first night when you allowed him to be vulnerable and explore your body and open up his heart.

Some things never change, while others do.

But lying here in your bed, staring at your ceiling, or at the lilies on your desk, or at the picture of you and him hung up on the wall, he knows now that maybe his heart never belonged to him.

Because right now Atsumu is holding his heart in his hands, feels his heart cuddling close to him, feels his heart trace patterns and shapes onto his skin.

And he knows that he was a dead man walking when he didn’t have his heart - he wasn’t happy, he wasn’t whole, he wasn’t  _ alive. _

And with his heart and his love staring at him with a smile on her face, he finally feels like he knows what being alive means.

“I love you,” he whispers again for the millionth time tonight, yet it doesn’t feel like enough.

“I love you, too,” you whisper back for the millionth time that night as well, and he can’t wait to hear it more for as long as he lives.

He gives a small laugh.

“We shoulda said that a lot earlier. Would’ve saved us a lotta trouble, dontcha think?”

You laugh a bit, but your brows soon furrow.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

You trace those pretty lines on his chest. “I knew I loved you since high school.”

His tummy twists with elation. “So did I,” he responds. And he did, hidden deep down inside him, he knew he loved you. He was just late to the game of realising that. You continue, looking troubled, and he grows worried.

”I just…”

_ God please don’t let her say this was a mistake. _

“Why did you go out with that girl in high school? If you loved me, why did you do that to me?”

Oh.  _ Her.  _

(Atsumu would blame everything that has snowballed since that day on her, but he knows that the blame can only fall on him and no one else. It doesn’t stop him from feeling bitter, though.)

He swallows hard, clears his throat, and prepares for a heavy conversation.

"I was stupid."

"You'll have to give me a better answer than that, Tsumu.”

He sighs heavily, and moves to wrap you up tighter in his embrace, planting a kiss to your forehead.

“I...I was scared.”

You remain silent, but he knows, can  _ feel,  _ the confusion coming from you in waves.

“All my life I’ve been told I’m perfect. That I’ll go far if I keep fightin’ for the top place because I’m strong and that’s what I should do. That I’m the best at volleyball and smooth with girls and can have it all if I play my cards right. So I got a lil big headed ‘cause of that. Started treating everyone around me like shit if they couldn’t get on my level, started expecting only the best of the best like I was told I should.”

He heaves another sigh through his nose as he stares upwards.

“I did all that ‘cause I thought I had to. I acted like some big hotshot like people said I always would be. I only ever wanted to be the best at volleyball and play for Japan, so my image kinda took over my life that way. I woulda said and done anythin’ if it meant securin’ a place on the Olympic team. I knew I was good at settin’ so why not? My life was pretty much decided for me the second I picked up a volleyball.”

_ And then I saw you. _

He pauses to collect his thoughts, and he can feel your arms squeeze gently around his waist in encouragement.

“And I was scared because I thought my life was set but you came in and changed everything. And it was exactly what I needed.  _ You  _ were exactly what I needed. "

You lift your head to look at him in mild surprise, one of your hands moving to cup his jaw so you can run your thumb gently over the apple of his cheek. He relishes in the sensation, and closes his eyes.

“I didn’t know the first thing about feelin’s or any of that crap. I didn’t need it. If a pretty girl came my way, she was only a fling. So when you came around, ya showed me so much more and I had no idea what to do. I panicked and thought of myself first like a dumbass instead of you. And can’t say sorry enough for not standin’ up for ya like I should’ve. I liked you from day one and I went about it all wrong.”

His own hand covers yours that rests on his face, and his eyes stare at you, resolute in his love for you.

“I’m so sorry for everythin’ I did to ya. I really am. I love you, and I don’t ever wanna lose ya again. I did that once and I felt like a piece o’ me died.”

He feels like he’s being examined as you stare deeply into his eyes, as if searching for a lie. But there is none. Atsumu is many things, but he isn’t vulnerable like this very often. Only with you. And so he wouldn’t dare lie to you, here and now.

Your face morphs into a small, shaky smile of relief as tears quickly flood your eyes, and Atsumu has only a split second to feel fear before you dive in for a kiss, stealing his breath away just like you’ve always done.

You pull back with a light laugh. 

“I love you so much, you lil  _ idiot.”  _ He gives a fake pout. “Please don’t ever hurt me again. I don’t think I can do this whole song and dance again.”

He laughs with you, throat tight with emotion. He definitely isn’t interested in going through the torture of having everything come between you again. Bokuto likes to believe in fate and all that, but Atsumu thinks what happened to you both was complete bullshit on fate’s part. He wants a refund.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, doll.”

Before Atsumu can begin round two beneath the sheets again once that tough conversation was out of the way, you stop him. 

“What are you going to do about Tomi?”

“Ugh, I’d rather not think about that demon right now-”

“Atsumu, I’m serious.”

He tuts, plops his head onto your pillow. 

“I’ve been tryna dump her since our first date but she won’t take no for a fuckin’ answer. She just won’t let go of me, ‘n every time I try to leave, she-”

Atsumu shuts his mouth. Your eyes narrow at him.

“What? What does she do?”

He feels embarrassed, like the pathetic little man Tomi once said he was. He should be stronger than this.

“She...threatens me, I guess?”

_ “You guess?” _

Atsumu has seen you sad, and he’s seen you happy, and many other emotions tossed in, but he doesn’t believe he’s ever seen you as angry as you look right now. You look  _ furious,  _ and overwhelmed with concern for him.

“She basically wants me to be her poster boyfriend. She doesn’t give a shit ‘bout me or my feelin’s at all. She’s a bitch.”

“She’s more than a bitch, Tsumu! Bo and Kuroo told me about how evil she was and I saw all those stupid posts she made, but I didn’t realise she would threaten you.” You bite the nail on your thumb nervously. “What did she say?”

He looks away and takes a sudden interest in the movie posters on your walls.

“Tsumu.”

Wow, did you get a new bookshelf?

_ “Miya Atsumu!” _

He rubs his ear after you flick it roughly with a long whine. You look entirely unimpressed. He sighs quietly.

“She said she’d start tellin’ everyone I hit her-  _ which is a lie, by the way-” _

“She said _what?_.” You look absolutely appalled and angered, heat rising to your cheeks with the force of your rage. You shake your head and move closer to him.

“I can’t believe this. I can't believe she would even try to say you would do that! What are you gonna do?”

He shrugs. “As she said, it’s my word against hers. I ain’t the friendliest guy on campus,” he says rather dolefully. Everything he’s worked so hard for is about to crumble to pieces in front of him.

“Well I tell you what  _ we’re  _ going to do,” you force him to meet your eyes. “We’re going to go to her apartment tomorrow, get whatever stuff you might have left there, and end things. She can’t get away with this. You deserve to be  _ happy,  _ Atsumu.”

“Even if we go there tomorrow and talk to her, she’s probably still gonna post that shit about me. And I don’t want to drag you down too. I... I don’t know what I’m gonna do,” he drags a hand tiredly down his face. In his gut he feels dread begin to weigh him down. He’s so sick of everything. All he wants is to stay here in your bed forever and not have to deal with the outside world.

“Bokuto and Kuroo will help us sort something out. I know they will. But I will not let that woman control you for the rest of your life, Tsumu. I love you too much to see that happen. Your new life starts tomorrow, and everything else will be in the past. And besides-”

You press one last gentle kiss to his lips, and it makes him feel so safe and secure and loved. You pull away to finish your sentence while his mouth tingles from the touch of your lips.

“If I could handle a few lies being told about me, then I'm sure you can too."

He pauses.

Resists the urge to laugh because-

Life is funny like that, isn't it?

Fate, destiny, everything comes full circle in the end, in the strangest of ways.

(Maybe you really were meant for each other.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY
> 
> have a lovely day everyone!!


	12. the tying of loose ends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took forever but it's finally here!! a big thank you to all you lovely people who like and comment!! as of the time of posting, i currently have 420 kudos so let's blaze it bitches WOO
> 
> I absolutely hate this chapter and had so much trouble with it but if i suffer through it any longer then i'll never post it and we can't have that!! i won't blame any of you for not liking this chapter i'm so sorry lol but any kind comments are always appreciated!! 
> 
> if there are any mistakes, please let me know! happy reading, you beautiful people!!

When Atsumu opens his eyes to the early morning light streaming in from the raindrop stained window, he feels...nothing, for what feels the first time in a long time.

He doesn’t feel this overwhelming sadness like he had when you first left his side, this ache to his heart that lay dull and destroyed beneath his ribcage. He doesn’t feel the weight of dread sinking his stomach like lead like it does every time he sees his phone flash with a notification, whether from Tomi or one of her goons attacking his social media. He doesn’t even feel the grogginess from having just woken up, and instead feels like he’s gotten the best sleep of his entire existence.

No, Atsumu feels nothing, but in the strange sense that he is content. He longs for nothing and does not lament over things lost, because he has everything that he needs now, everything that he's ever wanted. 

He has you, finally, and now he feels as though his life makes sense.

(Like a key to a lock - he only feels complete when he’s with you.)

And with you laying beside him, leg sprawled across his and breathing steadily against his skin from where your head rests on his chest, he knows that the wait for this had been completely worth it.

(Long, arduous, and full of shit that made him want to tear his hair out, but the universe finally decided you’ve both had enough pain.

At least he hopes.)

\---

Atsumu shimmies his pants up his hips, finally getting dressed and ready to face the music at nearly one in the afternoon.

You both would have been up and ready much earlier but...he couldn’t help himself. As soon as you said good morning his hands were on you as if they had never roamed the plains of your skin before, and he was bending you over on your hands and knees and making you sing along with the birds who tweet their songs for another few hours. 

It was heavenly, sinking into euphoria and forgetting the oncoming carnage that has yet to ensue as soon as he knocks on Tomi’s door. He wasn’t sure if he was strong enough yet, because that was going to be a hard fought battle, but you assured him that you would be there with him every step of the way, and that was enough. You were even polite enough not to show him the full extent of Tomi’s vicious and biting Insta story labelling Atsumu as an ‘unloyal piece of shit’. He got the gist of it though. It was nothing new. 

It still does not completely rid him of the nerves creeping their way into his system. 

You catch the nervous wrinkling of his forehead and walk over to where he sits on your bed, shifting his clothes into place. He looks up with a start when he feels your fingers cradle both sides of his face but he’s quick to relax into your hands, eyes drifting shut in bliss when your thumbs stroke tenderly at the apples of his cheeks.

“Nervous?” you ask, but it’s obvious what the answer is. It is written as clear as day in the rigidness of his movements once your late breakfast was finished with, and the weight of reality dawned upon the both of you.

“Me? Nervous?”

The chuckle he emits is weak, and is quickly replaced with a sigh. You smile sadly in understanding. 

“You’ll be fine. The sooner we talk to her – the sooner this ends. Nothing can stop us anymore.”

Well ain’t that a blessing?

He allows himself a small smile at your words, large hands sneaking behind your thighs and tugging your body abruptly between his knees, using your shock as an opportunity to drag you into a kiss.

You submit yourself to his lips and his love before you pinch the back of his neck. He pulls back with a yelp, flashing you an indignant look.

“Did you tell Bokuto and Kuroo what’s happening? They can help.”

Atsumu withdraws from your embrace awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding your eyes as pin-pricks of shame attack his being.

“I…no, I didn’t.”

“' _Not yet’,_ you mean.”

You flash him a pointed look. He huffs in response.

“Jeez, fine. _Not yet.”_

You look pleased with yourself. He watches as you move about your room, fascinated with your daily routine of getting ready. His stomach twists in delight at the realisation he’ll be able to see you like this a lot more now, so long as he deals with the elephant in the room.

“So call them now,” you say rather casually, watering the little potted plants on your windowsill. The rain seems to have stopped now, with a bright sun breaking through the dull clouds and obliterating all signs of misery or suffering that pelted down from the heavens. He can hear the rumble of movement and chatter drift in through the window.

“Wha- right _now?”_

“Yup.”

Atsumu just stares at you. Once you finish watering your plants, you place your little blue watering can down and fix him with the same, blank stare, hands taking their place on your hips. The very image of sass. That is supposed to be _his thing._

“Why right now?”

“Because they can help.” Your legs shift, your foot scratching at the back of your right calf. He lies back down onto your soft pillows, allowing the wonderful smell to surround him and ease his fraying nerves. Atsumu raises a thick brow in questioning.

“They can provide support. They’re your friends,” you elaborate. He moves over on the bed to make space for you, strong arms wrapping tight around you on instinct. His eyes flutter to a close when you scratch at his scalp. “Your brother can, too. You should call him.”

He shakes his head lightly, sighing through his nose. “Nah, Samu already deals with her enough as it is. And he’s at work, don’t wanna bother ‘im.”

You frown at that.

“You know he would wanna be there, though. Did you tell him where you are, at least?”

“Yeah, he knows I’m here. Told him I’d tell him why later.”

“Don’t you want him to be there?”

Atsumu offers a shrug in response, as though the thought of Osamu being there doesn’t affect him either way. But it does. Osamu has always been his other half, the one to stand by his side when no one else would, even if he would complain about it. Atsumu, without a doubt, wants his brother there by his side, like it has been since the day they were born.

But he doesn’t want to bother Osamu anymore. He’s already done so much for him already, not that Atsumu would ever admit it. Atsumu needs to start fighting battles without his brother.

(Besides, he now knows he has a new other half to help him fight.

Atsumu was really blessed to have all that he needs in life.)

You say nothing more, though he knows you’re aware that he’s hiding something. But you don’t push, and Atsumu thanks you for that. But you persist with the Bokuto and Kuroo issue.

“Why do ya want me to call them so bad? What can they do? Bring pitchforks and burn down her apartment?” That makes you snort.

“If it comes to that…”

“Hah- I’d love nothin’ more, to be honest with ya,” he grumbles sourly. He buries his face in your neck.

“I know. But I mean they could provide evidence.”

He raises his face from where it was buried in your neck to stare at you questioningly. Evidence?

“Surely you would have told them what she was like, or sent screenshots of her posts on social media- or even her messages!”

“Well, yeah, I…”

He did send screenshots. And screen recordings. And the boys knew first-hand what kind of demon Tomi was. He had plenty of evidence.

“We could bring all of that to her if she tries anything. Fight fire with fire. Plus, Bo and Kuroo make amazing hype men if a fight breaks out.”

He laughs at that, imagining those two idiots crowing behind him and hollering like it’s a wrestling match. He can almost hear Kuroo shout _‘Hit ‘em with a chair!’_ while Bokuto punches the air.

He gives it some thought, this plan of yours. It’s most likely his only option - Tomi has never been one to consider the feelings of others before her own personal, vindictive emotions. Politely asking her to just not drag his name through fields of shit just isn’t going to work, unfortunately. That plan died on the second date he was forced to attend with her. 

Using her own poison against her is the only way to bring this beast to its knees, but…

“It feels kinda shitty. ‘Tis like stoopin’ to her level, ya know? Bein’ as evil as her - it puts a bad taste in my mouth. I wanna be better than her. I _am_ better than her…”

He was, wasn’t he?

He’s been trying to be, at least.

You drag him away from his dark thoughts before he can fall into that whirlpool with the lightest of kisses to the tip of his nose. It makes him scrunch up his face at the sweet and ticklish sensation. 

_"You are._ Trust me. Tomi is her own personal brand of cruel, and you are a million times better than the person she ever was or will be. And it _is_ shitty, because it’s exactly the type of thing she would do. But… sometimes we need to stoop that low. An eye for an eye, and all that. I’d rather see this finished with and have you move on with your life. With… with me.”

You look away bashfully, and he can feel the heat of your cheek seep onto his chest from where you lay it on top of him, and you most likely feel the rumble of his small laugh. 

You’re completely right - he needs to stop this now before it grows into an even bigger problem.

“I want that too. I’ll call em,” he reaches into his back pocket for the item in question, ignoring the fact that his battery life looks quite low and the overflowing notifications of missed calls and messages from the wicked witch herself, and instead flicks through his contacts until he finds his black haired friend. Kuroo would be much more level headed and sensible in this situation right now, wouldn’t he? It makes more sense to call him. Bokuto would just scream incoherently for way too long, and Atsumu wouldn’t get anywhere then.

He takes a deep breath and allows his thumb to press the call button once you give him an encouraging smile. He puts the call on loudspeaker and allows it to rest on the pillow in the space between you both, the dial tone ringing out ringing out in your bedroom. On the third ring, Kuroo picks up, and his voice breaks through.

“Yo yo yo,” he drawls, sounding warbled. Atsumu picks up on the sounds of crunching and chewing through the receiver. It makes him roll his eyes. “Whatsh up, hmm?”

“Nothin’ much. Whatcha doin’?” Atsumu starts casually. You flash him a look, but he smirks and motions for you to wait. Kuroo loudly slurps on his end, finishing with a loud and satisfied _‘ah!’._ After a round of lips smacking obnoxiously, Kuroo answers him.

“Not much either. Just eating some really good fried chicken Kou brought home. Pretty good. Tasty. _Crunchy_.”

“'M sure it is. By the way- where is he? Thought I’d hear him yellin’ in the background by now.”

Kuroo laughs. The crunching and chewing continues. 

“Nah, he’s taking a shower right now. He’ll be out soon. Why? Did you want to do something today? I don’t have work until later and Kou is free today.”

“That’s good. Actually I did have somethin' I wanted to do today.”

Kuroo presumably takes another bite into some chicken, and Atsumu cringes at the overexaggerated moan he makes while you cover your mouth to stop the giggles from pouring out.

“Damn, this chicken is good. Whatcha have in mind?”

“Oh, y’know,” Atsumu sniffs. “Was gonna blackmail Tomi into leavin’ me today. Might need some help.”

The volume of the phone increases as all sound is overtaken by violent hacking and coughing, shortly followed by disgusting spitting, the sloshing off water as it’s more than likely thrown into Kuroo’s mouth and down his throat. The coughing doesn’t cease, even when Kuroo begins to splutter a weird mess of words and sounds crackling through the phone. Atsumu is grinning from ear to ear as Kuroo loses his mind, and despite shaking your head in disapproval, you can’t help but laugh quietly.

_“What- you- for real?! You’re gonna do it? I can’t- how- what- when did you-?_ _Bro what the fuck!_ ** _BOKUTO! GET THE FUCK OUT HERE RIGHT NOW.”_**

Atsumu stops cackling momentarily to hear Bokuto’s response. Distantly, he hears a really confused and scared shout of _‘HUH? WHAT HAPPENED?’_ , before the slam of a door against a wall cuts through. Atsumu recognises the slapping of wet feet on a floor, but what sends him doubling over in laughter is the ensuing yelp that Bokuto gives before what sounds like his entire body hits the floor and he grunts loudly in pain.

Kuroo pays him no mind, and just continues to barrage Atsumu with questions and words of confusion. The sound emitting is a loud and chaotic mess, but it’s so distinctly Bokuto and Kuroo that it would feel strange if they were so perfectly calm right now.

“What’s going on?” Bokuto asks with a groan. “Why did you-?”

_“Shut up, shut up shut up - Atsumu needs our help breaking up with Tomi.”_

All is silent for a moment, even Atsumu holds his breath, and he can nearly hear the cogs turning in Bokuto’s head, before-

_“Oh my god it’s finally happening._ **_Let’s go let’s go let’s go- wait I need to get dressed!_ **_”_

There’s a sound of shuffling and static, awkward and jarring to the ears as Kuroo protests against his phone being ripped away from his hands with a colourful curse. Bokuto breathes heavily and excitedly into the receiver, and Atsumu can almost see the wide grin he wears on his face.

“Bro are you serious right now? You’re finally gonna end things with her?” He gasps loudly. _“Wait- are you finally gonna be with your soulmate?”_

His cheeks glow red at the romantic and sentimental title, but his dark eyes flicker up to connect with your own, shining so beautifully like crystals in the afternoon sun. They draw him in, with their well of emotions and the depth of the love they hold, so fragile, but so strong. The eyes of a fighter, the eyes of someone who has seen the worst that life could offer and walked away with a broken smile, frayed at the edges and prone to wilting, but a smile nonetheless. 

He once thought he was as strong as that, maybe even stronger. That he was on top of the world.

He now knows that he has only reached the top of the world because you held a hand out for him and carried him here, while his friends and family helped to push him from behind.

He smiles, and his thumb rubs gently at the space underneath your eye.

“Yeah, Bo. I guess the universe is finally startin’ to get its shit together.”

The pair on the phone cheer loudly amongst themselves while Atsumu tries to hide his embarrassment, but you just pepper his face in kisses when he attempts to bury his face in your pillow. Kuroo speaks up once more, sounding equally as breathless and giddy as Bokuto had been.

“Ok, Kou, you get dressed, I’ll get the guns-”

“Wait- huh?” Atsumu asks in bewilderment, but he’s ignored.

“What time do you want us to meet you?”

“Uh, could you meet me at my apartment in like...twenty minut-”

_“We’ll be there,”_ they say in unison, and then the call goes dead. Atsumu is struck with panic and looks at his watch frantically, cursing loudly, hopping out of your bed and falling on his ass on his way to put on his shoes. He severely underestimated the time it would take you both to get to his apartment versus the time it would take Bokuto and Kuroo to get there.

You just laugh at him, and run to prepare for the upcoming battle.

\---

The run back to his apartment was nearly as stressful as the idea of facing Tomi.

Avoiding oncoming traffic, pedestrians and the occasional dog, all the while trying to either walk at a brisk pace or sprint back to his apartment to meet the Team Rocket tribute act before they start burning down his apartment block in response to his disappearance was nearly enough to put him in the hospital with anxiety.

But life always has a silver lining ready for him, and he got to experience all of this with your hand warm and solid in his, gripping on for dear life while your laughter rang out from beside him, loud and free. 

(And your hand, so caring, yet strong, feels perfectly warm and at home in his. And he holds your hand proudly for all to see - for the old ladies playing their bingo games under umbrellas poking out from the city walls, for the boys who kick a battered football in the park with bruised shins and dirtied faces that flash you a look of exaggerated disgust while he passes a comment about their attitude, for the other lovers both young and old who look on at the interlinked fingers with a wistful sigh and a muted smile.

He'll show everyone in the world that he is connected to you, and he doesn't care who sees.)

As his apartment building appears in his field of view, he spots two familiar haircuts loitering around the entrance. The louder one between the two has his hands cupped around his face and spiky silver hair aimed high in the direction of some random windows above, shouting _'Tsum-Tsum!'_ at the top of his voice while the ravenette beside him slaps him harshly on the back as he snaps at him to shut up.

Pausing to catch his breath, Atsumu shakes his head at the sight of his two idiotic friends. A quick scan of the area shows that nearly everyone unfortunate enough to be nearby are openly staring at the pair, and Atsumu's cheeks flush with more than just exertion. 

You laugh breathlessly, forever endeared by Bokuto and Kuroo's antics. "I guess they beat us here."

He scoffs, squeezing your hand as you both begin walking towards them at a much calmer pace. "Yeah, because they 'prolly used rockets to fly here as fast as they could."

He took a deep breath in.

_"Oi!"_

At _literal_ breakneck speed, both heads turn around at the sound of his voice. Kuroo's eyes go through the motions of narrowing and then widening as soon as he spots you peeking out from behind Atsumu's shoulder with a shy smile and a wiggle of your hand holding his. Kuroo smiles crookedly, looking very pleased at the development. His mouth opens, no doubt to make some smart remark along the lines of _'it's about time'_ but Bokuto steals the spotlight.

He jumps up and down like an over-excited dog, with a loud shout bellowing out from deep within his chest. Poor Kuroo is currently receiving the brunt of Bokuto's enthusiasm, with his head ready to fly off his shoulders with the force of Bokuto shaking his body, emitting protests that are lost on deaf ears.

_"Woohoo!_ Fate _always_ wins!" 

"Wait- Bokuto no-!"

Bokuto seems to be in a 'I'm selectively deaf' mood because he ignores Atsumu and rushes forward, wrapping not only Atsumu, but also _you_ in a giant hug that lifts both sets of feet off the ground and robs him of all air as Bokuto cackles cheerfully and sways everyone side to side.

Atsumu feels a split second of fear that you'll suddenly leave him and fall in love with Bokuto because of his sheer, jaw-dropping strength alone. The man is a _beast._

"Alright, alright! Put us down 'fore ya break our backs!" Atsumu barks.

Bokuto finally let's you both go and steps back with a grin. "Ha! Sorry Tsumu, I'm just so freaking happy for you both! It finally happened! The soulmates are together at last!"

Kuroo moves to stand beside him, delivering a pat that looks a tad too rough to be comfortable, if the wince that overtakes Bokuto's features is anything to go by. "He's not out of the woods just yet, Bo. There's still Tomi to deal with."

Atsumu tuts, and nods his head in the direction of his apartment.

"Let's talk 'bout this inside."

\---

"She's got no defense dude! We have evidence against her!"

Atsumu's eye twitches at the sight of Bokuto happily munching on any treat he could find in the cupboards. Not that he was allowed to. He just _did it._ But Atsumu saves his fighting energy for dealing with Tomi right now. He'll deal with Bokuto later and make him buy them all again.

"How much do you have?" you ask, pressed up to Atsumu's side. You're still holding on tightly to his hands, and he finds strength in it when his guts decide to fail him.

Kuroo rubs at the back of his head awkwardly, almost bashfully, as he gives his answer, aiming the screen of his phone in both of your directions.

"I've actually been making a folder of all of the screenshots Atsumu had sent us of their conversations. Some were sent by your brother, some new ones that you had sent to him and not us. Bo was saving pictures of her social media posts and some of the comments left by her braindead minions. I even have a video of when Atsumu put a phone call with her on loudspeaker for us to hear how crazy she is.”

Kuroo grimaces.

“I’m sorry about that, by the way - I kind of recorded it when you weren’t looking.”

Atsumu shakes his head, too astonished by the large photo album on Kuroo’s phone that you are now scrolling through, flicking through pictures and videos of vile messages that bite into his pride, tearing away chunks like a rabid dog. 

“‘S fine, I just...you’ve been collectin’ all this? For how long?”

Kuroo shrugs. “A few weeks now. Had a feeling you might need it someday. And today is that day, so it seems.”

“Hell yeah,” Bokuto chimes. He wraps a strong arm around Kuroo’s shoulders. “We got your back, dude!”

Atsumu decides to keep his mouth shut to avoid saying something stupid as he tries to find a way to appropriately express how much they mean to him and how everything they’ve done for him means more than he’ll ever be able to express with words. Before he can dwell on it for too long and paint himself as an ungrateful asshole, the door to his apartment swings open.

Osamu bolts through the door, a sheen of sweat coating his skin and his work clothes skewed and out of place, lungs heaving in any air that he can get. He greets everyone with a breathless voice and a lazy wave, moving to the kitchen to chug a glass of water and Atsumu can only look on in confusion.

“The _hell_ are you doin’ here?” he blurts. Osamu offers him that same old blank stare of his, and a careless shrug of his shoulder.

“Ya think I’m gonna miss when ya bring what’s comin’ to that bitch? Nah. I wanna see this through to the end. I told Suna what was happenin’, too. He says he can’t be there but he wants someone to record the whole thing.”

“Got it!” Bokuto laughs.

“But I thought you were at work-”

“I texted him when you weren’t looking, Tsumu.”

His head zips back to yours, eyebrows raised. You smile weakly.

“I know you said you didn’t want to bother him but I really think your brother, of all people, should be there with you. Even if it’s your last battle together.”

He should have known better than to think you wouldn’t catch on to what he was feeling inside.

He also has to wonder how much of an open book he is. Huh.

"You don't have to do everything by yourself you know."

Osamu grabs his attention again. Silver strands of hair stick to the sweat gathered above his brow, and his eyes stay in their lidded, bored manner but Atsumu knows there's something different about his eyes, a warmth and strength that was present for the entirety of Atsumu's life.

For how much shit Atsumu talks, he's rendered speechless with gratitude far too many times than he deserves.

With his brain failing him, Atsumu decides to just nod and steer the conversation in another direction.

"Thought ya had work until eight."

"I do. I'm spendin' my two hour break pickin' up yer shit, like I always do. But whatever, I wanna see her face when she gets what she deserves- wait, are those my Calbee chips?"

Bokuto pales underneath the dark, narrowed eyes of the other Miya twin, sheepishly lowering the bag of treats under a cushion as subtly as he can. Meaning it's quite obviously seen by every person in the room, with the bag rustling obnoxiously loud in the awkward silence. 

He can feel your body vibrate, trying desperately to hold in your laughter because of the look of utter fear taking hold of Bokuto's features as he's stared down by his brother, and Atsumu snorts into his fist. The sound sets Kuroo into a laughing fit, and Bokuto stands to walk toward the door, giving his own nervous chuckle.

"We're losing precious time, people!" He calls out with a voice three octaves higher than normal. "Can't stay here all day, the universe is waiting for us to do our part!"

\---

Atsumu stares at the shining white door to Tomi’s apartment with trepidation, the paint threatening to blind him with its glaring perfection despite the ugly chips at the edges of the frame, marring an otherwise pristine entryway to an even more pristine interior. 

He can feel the weight of four pairs of eyes watching him as they stand to the side, watching patiently as he rushes to gather his thoughts and calm his growing nerves. They feel heavy, and his mind sneers at them, telling him that they judge and they mock just like the others have always done, but his heart knows better, and instead he uses the strength he feels emanating from the most important people in his life to raise his hand and rap his fist on the door.

Nimble fingers brush against his, and he doesn’t have to look down to know that you’re offering as much support as he needs. He appreciates the gesture, the comfort those fingers of yours have always brought to him, even when he didn’t know he needed it.

His ears listen to muffled pop music being shut off, and the light, dainty thudding of footsteps approaching the front door. He takes a deep breath that gets caught in his chest, and he’s suddenly struck with the thought that no amount of preparing could make him ready for this moment and _fuck fuck fuck-_

The door swings open in a blur of white. Tomi stands there looking...more disheveled than he ever thinks he’s seen her. Even at the ass crack of dawn she was the very image of magnificence, with her hair and makeup styled and a smile tinged with poison at the ready. But now she lacks all of which makes her Tomi - there are no fake eyelashes batting, no bubblegum pink lips. Instead her face is as bare as the day she was brought into the world, and it somehow makes her look both younger and older than what she usually would look like. Maybe it’s just the deep set bags under her eyes that give that illusion, or the stress lines creasing her forehead. He isn’t sure. Her vibrant red hair is tossed up and away from her face into a halfhearted bun, and she dons a stained hoodie much too big for her frame.

The person standing in front of him is, by all means, a stranger. 

(He somehow thinks this is a much better, more relaxed look for her than the idol she has sculpted for the world. But, to each their own. She isn’t going to be his problem any more after today.)

She looks surprised for a moment, before her expression morphs into one of venom and disgusted. 

“Oh. I thought you were my delivery guy.” She scoffs, crossing her arms and cocking a hip to the side. “Come to apologise? About time. I could ruin your life because of the shit you said to me last night, but I’m feeling generous. Clearly you’ve come to your senses, so just beg for forgiv-”

“No. I ain’t here to apologise,” Atsumu clarifies with a scowl. Honestly, the nerve of this girl. Too entitled for her own good. “I’m here to get whatever I left here and end things.”

“Are you _serious?_ You’re still gonna try and die on this hill? You do realise you’re making a huge mistake, don’t you? I could bury your name with a single post for everyone to see.”

“I don’t know about that.”

Tomi jumps at the unexpected voice and flings her body to look around the frame of the door, only to freeze in shock as four rather angry and annoyed faces gaze back at her. Kuroo gives a halfhearted wave from his position leaning against the wall, and speaks up again.

“Hey there,” he grins. Atsumu uses her momentary distraction as an opportunity to slip into her apartment to search for his things. He’s pretty sure she snatched a jacket of his a while back…

_“What the fuck,”_ he hears her whisper. What the fuck indeed. Her hands fly to her face in a flurried frenzy, moving and pinning her raggedy hair into a more acceptable state and wiping away at her face as if to cleanse it of all and any dirt and impurities. She turns around to face Atsumu, who’s busy looking around her living area, upending those frilly cushions of hers and opening cupboards. “What the fuck is going on? Why are they here? _What are you doing?”_

“I already told ya, I’m lookin’ for my stuff and endin’ things with ya,” he replies simply. “Or have ya gone deaf? Must be listenin’ to yer shit music too loud.”

A flash of light hits the side of her face and she blinks dumbly, head twisting to identify what it was. Osamu stands in the doorway with his phone held high, snickering at the picture he just took, no doubt planning on sending it to Suna. 

“Excuse me? What the fuck did you just do? _Delete that._ ” Tomi demands. She marches up to Osamu with her hand outstretched, but Osamu is quick to move it out of reach. His forearm stops her from pushing and pulling his body, her nails biting into his skin as she attempts to wrestle the phone out of his grasp. 

“I will when ya delete all those nasty posts about my brother,” Osamu retorts. 

“What, the ones where I was telling everybody the truth about all the horrible things Atsumu has done?”

“Do ya really think we’re stupid? It’s all fake, like you.”

She sneers, a motion so unsightly on her pretty visage. “I never did like you. Just as stupid and horrible as your brother.”

Bokuto laughs loudly. “I’m sure that’ll keep him awake at night!”

“Shut it, Tomi,” Atsumu walks up behind her, jacket in hand. It smells like Tomi. He’s considering burning it. “That’s enough. We’re done. Delete all those posts about me, say sorry for what ya have done and leave me the fuck alone.”

“For wh- for what I’ve done?” She laughs scornfully, and Atsumu is certain if she spits on him he’ll feel his skin burn from the acid in her tone. “That’s _rich,_ coming from _you_ of all people.”

“Is it?” he asks lightly. He flashes her a grin, his most winning smile. Her face flushes with anger. “Care to tell me what I’ve done, exactly?”

“You are an abusive, lying piece of _shit-”_ she chokes up, tears well in her eyes, and he has to stop himself from laughing at how well she puts on a show. It’s scary, to say the least. “You’ve made my life a misery and yet...I still love y-”

“Why do ya keep up the act? Actin’ like a cornered animal won’t save you, Tomi.”

Now he really _does_ laugh, because he’s just now discovered that when you’re angry your accent gets as strong his, and it sounds so amazingly strange to his ears. 

_“Act?_ It’s not an _act.”_ She huffs out a breath, eyes you up and down in disgust. “So much for woman solidarity. Especially when you’re the other woman, you _whore.”_

“Excuse me?” Your face scrunches up in a mix of anger and confusion, and Bokuto is quick to wrap a thick arm around your shoulders to keep you from doing anything out of character in your fit of anger. 

“Don’t call her that!” Bokuto defends. “She didn’t do anything! You were the one who has been abusing Tsumu the entire time-”

“I did nothing- Atsumu isn’t as innocent as you think he is!”

She lets out a cry of frustration, and the crocodile tears are quick to fall down her face. Atsumu rolls his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose with a sigh. 

“Ya really know how t’put it on, dontcha,” he mumbles, but she ignores him in favour of finishing her award winning speech. She should have been an actress instead of a model. There’s time yet, he supposes.

“Can’t you people see how awful he is? Even now he publicly humiliates me, making me cry in front of all of you as he flaunts his side piece in my face and yet he still plays the victim.” Her sniffling pisses him off. “The world is against me. I’ve tried so hard to be a good person for him but- but he threw it all back in my face. And I still forgave him, time and time again...because I love him. I would never do anything to harm him.”

The twins burst out into laughter in unison at the absurdity of it all, and it further enrages Tomi, if the gritting of her teeth is any indication.

“Funny you should say that,” Kuroo scrolls through his phone until he finds what he’s looking for. He holds the screen up for her to see. She stares at it through fake, blurred eyes. “This you?”

He feels a sick sort of satisfaction burn through him when her face falls slowly upon reading what Atsumu guesses is a screenshot of their conversations. He can’t really make out what the screen says - maybe it was the message where she mocked his entire family, maybe it was the one where she called his entire journey to volleyball stardom a useless endeavour. Maybe it was one of the more colourful ones, the ones that directly attack him with a flurry of curses and insults. He isn’t sure. 

He just knows that Tomi does not look happy as Kuroo scrolls through his library of screenshots, even allowing a distasteful video of Tomi openly belittling his friends echo through the hallway of the apartment. Her ears burn red, maybe with fury, maybe with embarrassment. Probably both. It brings a smile to his face.

“Where did you get that?” Her voice is low and quiet, and the slight waiver of fear brings her ego down 50 levels. “That’s not- that isn’t real, those are fake. I’ve never seen those before-”

“Oh , they’re real alright. Don’t think Tsumu here is too handy with Photoshop to make them. And there’s plenty more where that came from, don’t worry. Got a whole album full!”

Tomi begins to stutter and stumble, poise thrown out the window. “Wait, I don’t- that isn’t me I would _never-_ when...when did you take those? I delet-”

She stops talking. Atsumu snorts.

“Didja think I wouldn’t show my friends the type of shit you would put me through? I’m honestly a ‘lil glad I sent them. Least it’s a way to get ya to _shut up.”_

He steps into her space, nose to nose, looking down on her like a king would to an insignificant bug, a leech writhing on dry land. 

“I didn’t wanna have to take it this far, but yer makin’ it _very_ hard to be civil, y’know? If you don’t delete all those lies you made about me and leave me alone, I’m postin’ everythin’ for the world to see. Everyone will know what kind of person you are. No more actin’ like yer a precious angel.”

It’s comical how fast her red flush of anger on her cheeks fades to make way for a sheet of white to encompass her skin, balking at his words and the bright screen of Kuroo’s phone.

“I...you can’t-”

“Apologise to him, too. For everything.”

Her head whips around to face you. Your face, usually so soft and sweet, is now hardened battle steel. “Publicly apologise for all the abuse and manipulation you’ve put him through. It’s the very _least_ you could do. He deserves so much more, but we want to be rid of you.”

Within a second, Tomi’s crestfallen face and dried up tears of insincerity vanish, and is replaced with a glare of vitriol and murder. Atsumu grabs the back of her hoodie just as she takes a step forward, and Bokuto moves to stand directly beside you while Osamu blocks her view. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Kuroo raising his phone to take a video. Good. More fuel for the fire.

“How _dare_ you. You fucking asshole, _this was all your fault to begin with.”_

“Ya sure ‘bout that?” Osamu asks with narrowed, grey eyes.

“If it wasn’t for you and your pathetic little life begging for sympathy from Atsumu then we wouldn’t _be here in the first place.”_

“Well we wouldn't be here forcing you to back down if it wasn’t for you playin’ him like a toy and abusin’ him. It’s _disgusting.”_ you respond with a frown.

“You sad, little miserable _bitch_. I don’t blame your sister for flying off the roof and going splat if it meant getting away from a pathetic loser like you-”

_“Oi, fuckin’ stop”_ Osamu warns, but it falls on deaf ears. Atsumu’s fists clench tighter in Tomi’s hoodie, ready to fling her to the other side of the room if she said any more shit. He would pull her back if it wasn’t for Kuroo standing off to the side, phone still raised and recording every moment. Your sharp intake of breath kills him, and he can see the shock and sorrow flood in your irises.

“-to be quite honest with you, it should have been _you_ that died - and who knows? Maybe your sister would have snatched Atsumu up as soon as she could-”

_“Enough!”_ Atsumu roars. He’s delighted to see Tomi jump out of her skin at the volume, but it’s short lived once he looks at your face. You look like you’re trying hard to hold it all in, to rein in all your emotions before the dam bursts free, and for the most part you’ve controlled your face into a neutral state. But his heart breaks, because he thought he was finished with seeing that, thought that was left behind with the old lockers, the creaky desks and the cruel faces of Inarizaki High School. Life always has a way of never letting you escape your past. Life always has a way of reminding you that people can truly be evil.

“You act like I haven’t heard all of this before,” you reply dully after a moment of silence, Bokuto’s hand offering support on your shoulder. “As if you’re any different from the rest. And that’s what you try so hard not to be, isn’t it? You don’t want to be the same as anyone else, but really you’re just another mean face in the crowd. You don’t stand out at all, especially among all the other awful people in this world. I pity you.”

“Y-You... _you_ pity _me?”_ Tomi looks enraged and lurches forward as much as she can with his death grip on her hoodie holding her back and with Osamu standing partially in her way, but you stand there, cool as a winter’s breeze. Atsumu’s smiles. You meet his eyes briefly above her head, and allow the corner of your lips to tilt upwards. 

“Yeah, she does. We all do, Tomi.” Atsumu scoffs. “Ya live a sad lil and get off on ruinin’ others. Hell, you can’t even go a day without sayin’ some nasty stuff about your own best friends. You’re an ugly piece o’ work, and I don’t want anythin’ to do with ya any more.”

She cries out in frustration, tries to link her arms around his neck, but he jerks away in disgust. “Why couldn’t you just like me, Atsumu? Why couldn’t you pick me over her? We had fun, didn’t we?”

That makes Atsumu laugh, but it lacks any sort of humour. “No, _you_ had fun livin’ in yer stupid bubble. I had a miserable time tryin’ to dump you but you wouldn’t let me go just because you wanted to look popular. That’s just sad. Don’t get why ya have to bring other people down to stay on top. That won’t get ya anywhere. Take it from me.”

A beep from Kuroo’s phone alerts everyone, and he stares at his screen, satisfied. “Hmm, I think that’s enough. Got your little outburst on camera. Quite colourful. Worldstar, anyone?” 

“You w-what? Delete it _now_.”

Kuroo shakes his head. Her resolve crumbles like shattered glass. 

“Delete it now, _please. I’m begging you,_ I can’t let anyone see me like that,” she mutters through steadily flowing tears and a cracking voice. Atsumu can’t even relish in the sight. It’s just _pathetic._ “P-Please, I’ll do anything, just don’t post that. My life will be ruined- I worked so hard to get where I am. _Please don’t do this.”_

“And why should he?" Atsumu's brows raise. "Did ya think about how my life would be ruined when you started postin’ all those lies about me-”

“I’m- I’m sorry, ok? I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t thinking properly-”

Osamu folds his arms. “You didn’t mean to? What- did yer fingers slip or ‘sumn? Save it, Tomi.”

Her tears flow faster now, and her face reddens in ugly red splotches. _“I’m so sorry, but please don’t do this.”_

Atsumu stares at her in contempt and disdain, at this evil demon in his life suddenly reduced to nothing more than a panicked, blubbering mess. Oh how the mighty fall. He faces her head on once more, and makes sure to hammer this home one more time.

“Delete everything you’ve ever posted about me. Apologise for all the things ya said about me, and about _others-”_ his brown eyes flicker around his friend group before landing on you. Despite her earlier words bothering you deep down (he can see it in those endless pools of beauty in your eyes), you give him an encouraging smile. “-and stay out of my life. I never wanna see ya again after today.”

“And you’ll delete the videos and screenshots?” She sniffs. He rolls his eyes.

“Obviously. I’m not like you.”

“O-ok! I will! Please don’t show them to anyone, I’ll do as you said.” Atsumu nods solemnly, and walks out into the hallway to his friends. He turns around once more, taking one last look at her. He can taste freedom, so close, so very close. 

“We’ll delete our stuff once you’ve deleted yours and said sorry.”

She nods eagerly, wiping hastily at her cheeks. She holds her hands out, as if asking for one last hug. He sneers in disgust. 

“Get lost.”

With that said, he grabs your hand, starts leading you down the hallway as the others follow behind, sparing her no second glances as they leave, except for Bokuto who calls out a cheery _‘have a nice life!’._

You let go of his hand suddenly, and he looks at you in confusion. You run back to her door where she stands dumbly in the entryway, staring at the retreating forms who hold her career in their hands. She eyes you warily, and Atsumu is two seconds away from running back and throwing you over his shoulder before anything happens but Kuroo, surprisingly, stops him. You address her directly, and stare into her watery eyes.

“Atsumu is ten times the person you ever will be. He is an amazing, human being who makes mistakes like everyone else. But at least he’s trying to make up for them. You need to start doing that too. For what it’s worth, I hope you become a model like you wanted. But a word of advice, from one ‘miserable bitch’ to another: you’ll have a better chance getting where and what you want if you find happiness in your life. Believe me. You have no one to blame but yourself for the way your life has turned out.”

You move back to Atsumu quickly before she can say anything else, and practically drag him away from her apartment floor and to the lobby of the building. Atsumu knows the boys are dying to talk about what happened, but they’re allowing Atsumu a moment of silence, so he can process whatever the fuck just went down, because he isn’t entirely sure himself. It feels like both a blur and ten hours, like time just doesn't exist and stops and starts when it feels like it.

A man in a dark uniform with a cap bearing the logo of some delivery company bursts through the doors of the lobby, holding what Atsumu assumes to be a bag full of food and looking like he's in a terrible rush. His brother eyes the bag with muted interest, and stops the delivery guy as he passes them.

"Oi, are ya deliverin' food to a girl called Tomi?"

The man looks at him in surprise, and checks the receipt. "Yeah, I am. Do you know her?"

"I do," Osamu answers with dull eyes. "Is the food paid for already? We were just headin' up to her apartment. Want us to bring it up for ya?"

Atsumu holds back a snort and a smirk at the relief that floods the guys face. A similar smirk appears on Osamu's face, while everyone else becomes interested in the awful art hanging on the walls.

"Oh, thank you man, you're doing me a solid and saving me a lot of time." He practically tosses the food in his brothers arms and backs out the front door nearly as quick as he came in. "Thank you!"

"No problem," the grey haired twin drawls, peering into the delivery bag. "Hmm, chow mein. It'll do."

With a shrug of his shoulders he leaves the building while the others follow. Atsumu let's loose the laugh that had been bubbling inside him, while you shake your head at their antics.

"Isn't that technically theft?" you ask. "You just robbed Tomi's food."

"Well she robbed me of my lunch time. I'm makin' up for it. Did anyone see me take it?"

His question is met with a chorus of negatives.

"I didn't see anything, dude," Kuroo shrugs with a grin. 

"Me either," Atsumu agrees.

"Who's Tomi?" Bokuto laughs loudly. 

All of them look at you expectantly. You sigh wearily.

"I saw nothing…"

"Exactly," Osamu grins. "Now let's get back to the apartment - I wanna eat this before my break is over."

"Let's _go!"_ Bokuto grabs both yours and Kuroo's hands and runs ahead, forcing you both to start sprinting to keep up with him as you laugh and protest his antics, leaving the twins behind. 

Atsumu grins at the sight before him, feels the dead weight in his chest gradually fall apart piece by piece. He finally feels a sense of freedom, feels the love of his friends and family, and knows that even though the future holds uncertainties, especially regarding Tomi since he isn't sure if she'll still try something to bring him down so she'll have the last laugh, he can say now that he doesn't look to the future with dread like he has done for the past year or so. 

He looks to the future with a smile because he's reached the stars.

(And he only keeps getting higher.)

A cough from his brother captures his attention, and he feels the need to thank his brother just this once (so he doesn't have to ever do it again and look at his smug face).

"Thanks, Samu. For everythin'."

Not the most elegant or thought out thing to say, but the Miya Twins were never known for their elegance. Still, Osamu understands it clearly.

"Don't have to thank me. I woulda used any opportunity to bring her down. It was worth it, seein’ her face get all mad."

Atsumu snorts, and the twins dissolve into light laughter. Up ahead, you yelp and howl with glee as Bokuto picks you and swings you around like a child, trying to attack Kuroo with your flailing legs. The smile on Osamu's face grows smaller, but is full of warmth despite the blank look in his eyes.

"I'm happy for ya, brother. I really am. Ya got a good girl - don't let her go."

As Bokuto puts you back down on the ground, you look back at the twins with a bright grin and a wave. His lips curl up into its own grin automatically, and his whole being floods with warmth and happiness and love.

He gives Osamu a small smile, and the twin returns it.

"Don't plan on it."

\---

The week after ‘Tomi-Gate’, as Suna had referred to it, was tense for everybody. It was as if both Tomi and Atsumu had their fingers on the trigger of a gun, ready to fire should one person step an inch out of line.

A day after the confrontation she had deleted all the posts she made about Atsumu, and made a single post apologising for all the false claims she made about him. She called it a  _ misjudgement of character _ , and that all the crazy posts she made labelling him as the worst human being on the planet were made without thinking during a very dark period in her life in which her old childhood dog had died and she wasn’t feeling herself. Not true (she didn’t have a dog at all), but of course the post was met with a flood of sympathies from her followers, completely disregarding the fact that she had abused him and defaced his character for everyone to see. He had received a few apologies from people who had sent him some hate on Tomi’s behalf and saw the truth through her words, but he was otherwise met with silence. Whatever, he didn’t care. He was finally rid of the parasite in his life, and he was moving on. Felt too good to be true, but he’ll burn that bridge down if he ever gets to it again.

(Kuroo had told him that he deleted everything he had on her, save for a few screenshots and videos of a particularly vicious nature that he kept on cloud storage, just in case. At least he has the peace of mind that should she ever take vengeance for all of this, he has a shield waiting for him.)

And so awaited his newest challenge - you.

No so much a challenge, per say. He just doesn’t want to fuck things up now and lose you again. But you’ve assured him you’re here to stay, and stay you did. He’s so damn happy that he can treat you the way that he should have done to begin with all those years ago. He just wanted to shout from the rooftops that he is love with the most perfect person in the entire galaxy, and that you’re also in love with him, and it turns him into some invincible god - an unstoppable force that can take anything head on, be it on the court or in the winding city streets as long as you’re there by his side.

While it was not publicly announced, most of his friends knew that you were finally together, and for those in the know of just how long Atsumu has pined after you, they could only give a massive sigh of relief that they don’t have to hear his moping any longer. Rude. 

Atsumu had called his mother to sheepishly tell her the news, and was surprised when she laughed loudly into the phone, exclaiming “I knew it would happen eventually!” and calling his dad to come over and laugh at him while every complaint he made fell on deaf ears. Yuta was devastated he could not marry you like he was hoping, and all Atsumu could do was tut and tell him to get in line, because apparently that line was longer than he thought.

You called your parents as well. Your dad was beyond delighted, and hearing his happy and elated voice through the speaker on your phone filled him with that sort of warmth you get when you get back under the covers of your bed after you leave them for a bit. He really did like your dad. Your mother said nothing. He held you that night as a sorrow from long ago returned to chill your bones.

Eventually, within the space of a week, it seemed like everyone knew. A congratulations text from Kita, a meme from Aran. Even Daishou somehow heard about it and asked Futakuchi to pass on a congrats message from him. Atsumu wanted to get Kuroo and drive to wherever Daishou was slithering in and slap him silly, but you took it in good faith. Everyone knew, somehow.

Everyone  _ except  _ Himari. You had  _ specifically  _ wanted to keep that as a surprise from her until you could tell her face to face.

And a surprise it was for  _ everyone.  _ You had said she was coming back from her holidays sometime this week, and you had assumed it was going to be during the day.  _ He  _ had assumed it was going to be during the day, too. So imagine how shocked he was to awaken during the night at an ungodly hour while he was sleeping in your bed with his arms wrapped around you, snoozing peacefully and not expecting his eardrums to burst from an ear-piercing screech while your bedroom light blinded his eyes that had shot open upon hearing the intruding sound. He dropped out of your bed and grabbed the nearest thing as a weapon, which ended up with him waving your stupid, flimsy watering can around like an idiot as Himari stood there in shock, gaping at the two of you.

“Wait-  _ wait,”  _ she had gasped, ignoring all glares from Atsumu as he hid under your covers once more. He was wearing nothing more than his underwear, after all. He didn’t need judgement from the supposed Queen of Lesbians. “You’re not cheating, right? I mean I hate that bitch as much as everyone else but-”

“No! Nothing like that, Mari! Atsumu finally left her.” You hop out of bed to pull her in for a hug. Atsumu pouts at the loss of your body next to his. Himari catches his look over your shoulder and sticks out her tongue while he responds by flipping the bird.

“You finally did it, huh? And I missed it? Ugh, why me!”

“Stop it,” you laugh. “You were in Greece! That’s way better than some stupid girl.”

“Still, I wanted to see it all go down. And to find out my best friend finally got the love of her life like  _ this?”  _ She sighs loudly and pretends to gag when you head back into bed with him, holding his hand. He smirks and gets cosy on your pillows. “Was it at least dramatic?”

“Very,” Atsumu snorts. “There was screaming, crying, blackmail. Lil bit of theft.”

Himari wails dramatically and holds onto the closest wall for support. “That sounds  _ amazing.  _ Remind me to ask you about all the juicy details tomorrow, Atsumu. I need some fuel for my next story.  _ This one  _ will try to downplay the theatrics, as usual.”

“‘Course. Ya want me to act out some scenes, too?” He laughs when Himari’s eyes sparkle. 

“Yes please! I need to know everything about how that chapter of your life ended.”

That, he thinks with a wry smile, is a chapter he’ll gladly tell.

\---

It seems stupid when he thinks about it, so asinine and simple, but Atsumu has never asked you out on a date before.

Sure, you’ve both been out somewhere together, but he had never asked before, had never known what it felt like to take you somewhere romantic and make you smile.

He realises it one night, a few days after Himari had returned home and bled his voice box dry of all the information she could get about Tomi-Gate. You’re both just sitting on your couch, and some corny romantic comedy plays on your TV. He was paying no attention to it at all, too busy trying to sneak in a feel of your legs and ass to make you laugh, but suddenly the dashing male lead declares that he’ll take the beautiful but stubborn female lead on as many dates as it takes until she falls in love with him. Kinda weird, but it gets Atsumu thinking, and brings him to the sad realisation that he has never done something nice like that for you, has never paid for a nice dinner or took you to see a show - hell, he’s told you he loves you before he’s even asked you out on a date.

It makes his leg twitch and bounce as he ruminates on date ideas, and you obviously sense a shift in his mood, because you ask him what’s wrong.

“Nothin’ doll, I just… I guess I just realised that I’ve never asked ya out on a date before.”

You pause. “Oh. You haven’t.”

“Yeah.”  _ Shit, why is he suddenly so awkward right now? _

“So do ya-”

“But that’s fi-”

You both blink, and then laugh.

“Maybe we should do this properly,” he jokes. You press a kiss to his nose, and he chases your lips, causing you to giggle.

“Tsumu, my love - I don’t think we’ve ever done anything properly,” you grin, a bright and fond stretch of your lips. 

“Yer right but...we can try.”

You hold his face gently in your hands, rubbing your thumb along his cheeks. “We can.”

“So?” he asks with a dopey smile. “Wanna get dinner this Saturday? I know you don’t have work. It’ll be my treat.”

“I’ll never say no to free food.”

His brows raise in a mock display of hurt. “I ain’t exactly hearin’ a  _ yes-” _

“Oh you silly man - of course I will!”

He drags you in for a kiss, then, and the movie fades into the background completely as his thoughts and his heart focuses entirely on you. People think that his enamour with you will fade over time, that he’ll eventually reach the end of the ‘honeymoon phase’. 

He doesn’t think he’ll ever get out of the honeymoon phase. Being with you just feels too good. Feels too much like part of his soul is connected to yours, like the universe had planned, all along.

(And this, he knows, is the beginning of his new story.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next chapter is the last...dun dun DUN
> 
> also i revamped my old kpop tumblr blog and turned it into a general writing blog so if anyone would like to follow me at [sovtwords](https://sovtwords.tumblr.com/) for the chats i would love that!! all of my stories will still be posted on ao3 anyway, and linked on tumblr!
> 
> also ;))) my next work (which will hopefully come out before chap 13!) will be a wonderful collab with the crazy talented, beautiful and amazing lil bean Renesis, who most of you might know from her unbelievably good series Ghosts We See!! my part in the collab with feature kuroo...and some cars...and some tokyo drifitng.... ;) a post about it can be found on my tumblr! i hope you can all look forward to it!
> 
> love you all, hope you have a lovely day!!


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